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kpopfanfictrash · 9 months

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Elemental (M) Pt. 1

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Second Chance Romance / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: death of a parent (past), some emotional abuse

NSFW Warnings: oral (woman and man), multiple orgasms (woman), fingering, hand job, face-riding, sex outdoors (in a secluded, private area), very slight ass-play, breast play

Word Count: 17,287 (32,487 total)

Author's Note: Unfortunately, the new Tumblr text editor doesn't allow for more than 1,000 paragraphs per post. Part I is here, and Part II will be uploaded shortly. Please, please, please reblog both if possible! In my experience, engagement tends to be worse when split into two parts. (also, if you haven't already realized based on the premise, Y/N does break up with Jungkook in the first part of this fic lol so, if that's something you don't want to read; fair warning!)

[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

Magic, to you, has never been a boon.

Despite its romanticization in movies and stories, the reality of magic is messy and unpredictable. As dangerous as it can be fickle, your mom likes to say. Usually followed by a glance in your direction, swift enough for you not to notice, although you always do.

Either that, or an unconscious tilt her chin towards the photograph on the mantle. You aren’t sure she even realizes she does it, acting on instinct alone. The photo is of your dad, holding you on his shoulders with an ear-to-ear grin. He was the other Elemental in your family.

Even with only one magical parent, the Elemental gene tends to be passed on to children. Your dad’s magic was water, skilled in manipulating and calling forth the element. He was lauded for it, which was in itself unusual. More often, Elementals are run out of town by other humans. Although time has gone by since societal integration, there are still many who view your kind with suspicion.

You can’t say that you blame them – not really. Because again, the reality of magic is it can be dangerous. Based on experience, bad things tend to happen when you lose control.

Head tilted, you squint through the fog at your boyfriend’s apartment. For centuries, fog has been heralded as an ill omen and maybe there’s some degree of truth to it. Maybe the first speaker lived near a temperamental water Elemental, unable to keep their emotions from manipulating the weather.

Thoughts souring at how close to reality this feels, you shake your head once and some of the fog clears.

A pep talk, you think. That’s what you need to convince yourself to enter. Unseasonably chilly this late in the summer, your fingers curl into the ends of your sweater. Going inside would be preferrable to standing out in the cold, and yet you can’t manage a single step.

Better to stand in the cold than enter and shatter.

Again, you remind yourself you’re doing the right thing and again, this doesn’t help. If anything, it makes you clutch your sweater tighter. For once, you wish doing the right thing meant what’s right for you. Exhaling deeply, your eyes shut as a train passes and shakes the ground.

You began dating Jungkook three months ago and within a week, you knew it was different. You have a tendency to hide pieces of yourself, knowing most people won’t like what they find. Jungkook never allowed that to happen. The first time you ghosted, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop the next morning and asked what had gone wrong. Taken aback, you responded honestly and to your surprise, Jungkook listened.

He stayed. Stayed when others had run, cementing himself on a short list of people you can trust. Three months into dating, things have moved at once fast and slow. Fast because typically, you exit relationships long before feelings like these ones develop. Slow, because you haven’t given Jungkook every part of yourself.

Physical intimacy comes to mind. On several occasions, this has proved… difficult.

Eyes opening, you stare at the door. Memories of last night rise to the surface. For a long time, you’ve known this relationship has an end date. Knowing this doesn’t prepare you for the difficult conversation ahead.

The last time you saw Jungkook was after midnight. Fat raindrops chased your footsteps while you ran from his place, descending the subway at a record pace. The look on his face remains stuck in your mind and even now, you find the thought hard to revisit.

Imagining hurting Jungkook again is unfathomable. Stifling a gasp, you spin on your heel and march away. Halfway to the gate, you get a grip on yourself. Coming to a stop, you remind yourself this isn’t about you. Jungkook will hate you – there’s nothing to do about that now. Now, this is about Jungkook and ensuring he’s safe.

Slowly, you turn around and make your way forward. In the name of procrastination, you stop at a trash can to clean out your purse. Old receipts, gum wrappers and a crumpled-up napkin shake into the bin. You pause at the napkin, staring at the embossed name of the restaurant you work at. Or – more accurately – worked at.

Slamming the trash lid, you turn. You began work at Pierre’s Bistro two months ago as a temporary measure. Ideally, you paint but lately, inspiration has run dry. Waiting tables pays the bills, leaving time at the end of the day to stare at a blank canvas.

Pierre’s is an upscale French restaurant a few blocks down with semi-decent food and waiting tables would be fine if the owner – Pierre – weren’t a massive asshole. Now that you don’t work there, you can be honest about that. Pierre was the most sexist, elitist, capitalistic piece of shit you’ve ever had the displeasure of working for. While on his payroll, you tried to make the best of it but now, you have nothing to lose. Pierre was a dick.

A point he proved yet again last night, much to your mortification. You prefer working the lunch shift to dinner, and weekdays to weekends. Saturday nights are worst of all, and last night Pierre didn’t arrive until well after six. You were forced to cover the entire front section, picking up for a co-worker who called in sick.

Rushing from the bar, you nearly crashed into your boss removing his coat. Grabbing you by the elbow, Pierre steadied you, his hand lingering.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he joked.

You forced a smile. Experience has taught you the best thing to do in those types of situations is to smile and laugh.

“No fire. Lots of customers! Excuse me,” you said and tried to move past.

Pierre didn’t release you. If anything, his grip on you tightened until you turned your head.

“Yes?” you said, impatient.

Pierre didn’t respond, looking you slowly up and down. Eventually, he released you to take a step backwards. “Nothing,” he said carefully. “Be careful out there tonight.”

Trying not to gag on his words, you moved on. Unfortunately, it was hard to escape Pierre’s notice once caught. From that point on, each of your flaws were held under a microscope. First, it was that you didn’t fold the napkins correctly. Next, you took a wandering path from kitchen to table. Each time you entered the dining room, scornful words were covered by simpering smiles.

By the time your shift end approached, you could barely keep going. A large group had entered and, seeing the host occupied, you took it upon yourself to seat them at your last table. Fixing your apron, you hurried through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

Grabbing another table’s dishes, you thanked the cook and pushed open the door. Immediately, arms shoved you back in. Startled, you barely had time to recognize the host, Vanessa, before the doors swung shut.

“Vanessa?” you said, adjusting your grip. “What’s going on?”

Harried, she glanced over one shoulder. “Sorry,” she sighed, curly hair slipping from her messy bun. “I wanted to warn you before you went back out. Pierre is pissed.”

Your stomach sank. “Pissed… at me?”

She nodded, another dark curl escaping. “Something about saving the table up front for his friends? Bullshit, yes,” she said at your expression. “But you know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know,” you muttered. Deciding there was nothing to be done but keep moving, you hefted your plates higher. “Okay, thanks for the warning. I need to get these to table ten.”

“No problem,” she said and stepped out of your way.

You walked inside with slightly less spring in your step. Pierre lounged near the bar, surrounded by a group of people you could only assume to be friends. Although you felt his gaze on your face, you avoided him the best you could while you made your rounds. Taking the long way to the kitchen, you passed in front of the window.

Which was the moment you noticed Jungkook waiting for you on the curb. He stood beneath a streetlight, light pooling around the ends of his dark hair. When he saw you approach, his face lit up and he smiled.

Cursing beneath your breath, you smiled back. You were supposed to be done a half-hour ago, but there hadn’t been a good time yet to stop. Waving back, you mouthed, just a minute, and frantically pushed through the crowd to the back.

Merely seeing his face lifted a weight from your chest. It was easy to be around Jungkook because he liked every part of you. You never felt the urge to pretend, to curve yourself into something someone else would find pleasurable.

Well, he liked every part except one – and you were working on telling him that.

Hurrying into the staff room, you forgot your plan to avoid Pierre. You nearly jumped a mile when a hand grabbed your elbow, spinning you to face your fuming manager.

Pierre stared down his nose. “Follow me,” he snapped, releasing your arm to spin around.

He passed tables full of patrons, leading you to the bar before turning. “Y/N,” Pierre said, his voice dropping. “Are things okay tonight?”

“Yes,” you responded, deciding one-word answers were safest.

“Then why, exactly, are you fucking this up?”

Your jaw tensed. “I wasn’t aware I was doing so,” you said carefully.

“The napkins?” Pierre made a tsk-ing sound. “How many times should I say that presentation is important? Not to mention your laziness. One of your tables had to flag me down to ask for a refill. And now, you gave away the front table.” His expression darkened. “What makes you think you, a fucking waitress, can step in for a host? You sat someone at the table I personally reserved for my friends!”

You shouldn’t have responded. You should have stayed quiet and yet –

“There was no name in the book,” you muttered.

“What’s that?” Pierre waited and, when you stayed silent, shook his head. “I hadn’t had time to write their name down, but I told Vanessa, who assured me it’d happen. Of course, she wasn’t taking into consideration Y/N, the wonder waitress! Taking everyone’s jobs and making them harder.”

At your sides, your hands balled into fists. It took a greater amount of concentration than normal to keep your emotions from spilling over.

Of course, there were explanations for Pierre’s accusations. The napkins were correct before he jostled the table. You had been circulating your tables and if you were unavailable, it was because of his poor staffing. Oh, and – he didn’t make a reservation for his friends.

Slowly, you exhaled and stuffed down the responses. Deep down, with other emotions and magic. Beyond Pierre, a glass trembled but once you relaxed, the water went still.

“I apologize,” you said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll do better next time.”

Pierre sniffed. “See that you do,” he said, brushing past. Grabbing a beer from the bar, you heard his friends burst into raucous laughter. Apparently, your humiliation was entertaining.

Heaving a small sigh, you turned – and froze where you stood.

Outside, Jungkook stared into the restaurant with murderous eyes. Too late, you realized Pierre had pulled you in front of the window. Away from anyone dining, but in full view of anyone on the sidewalk. Like your boyfriend, who witnessed the entire spectacle.

For a moment, your emotions overwhelmed, and you felt magic crack the walls you kept hidden. Embarrassment crept past your boundaries. Humiliation. Fury. Stuffing everything back, you quickly turned to rush through the tables.

Jungkook’s gaze snapped towards you, his brow furrowing. Reaching the staff room, you paced up and down. Jungkook saw you. He saw Pierre’s outburst, which meant you’d have to explain. You’d have to explain to Jungkook – the only person whose opinion you cared about – why you allowed other people to walk all over you.

He’d start to ask questions. Questions like, when was the last time you really got mad? You’d have no good response. Not because you don’t get mad, because you do. But because you don’t ever allow yourself to act on the feeling.

Faced with the prospect of brushing him off, you buried your face in both hands. Your usual excuses wore thin in your ears.

Pierre isn’t so bad. It was a one-time thing. You promise you’ll talk to Pierre tomorrow.

None of it would be true, and you didn’t want to lie to Jungkook. People never understood why you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but the answer was complicated.

Your last date said you lacked emotions, but you don’t think that’s it. Of course, you have feelings, but those feelings are buried beneath so many layers, they can be hard to see. It’s not that you don’t feel, it’s that you cannot.

When you feel, your magic reacts, and people get hurt.

That was the last part of yourself you kept hidden. Jungkook is normal and he doesn’t know you’re an Elemental.

You know that by now, you should have said something. Obviously, but the timing was never right. Twenty-five years old, and you still aren’t sure how to broach the conversation. Few people know what you are, so you haven’t had much experience with the explanation. Your magic isn’t something you use if you can help it.

Yet another lesson you learned from your mom.

Your dad, an Elemental, died when you were five. Before, you lived near the ocean on a flat strip of sand. Your memories from before then are faint, but whenever you try, you can hear his booming laugh. Can feel the salt sting your cheeks, your mom tossing you in the air while you spun around.

Everything afterwards faded. At five years old, a hurricane swept past the barrier islands and that, you remember. You recall your mom at the door, pleading with your dad not to go as he donned his jacket. You remember him holding her hand, kissing the top of your head, and saying he’d return soon. Not many Elementals lived in your area, and even fewer had water magic.

You recall the hours passing, stretching longer and longer until dawn approached. Flashing lights followed, a woman climbing from her car to speak to your mom. You recall the sound of your mom sobbing, the policewoman’s voice floating into the house.

The storm surge was stronger than expected, but your dad managed to divert the worst. He saved the town only to be hit by a bolt of lightning. Instant death, the policewoman said, her tone implying this might be a comfort. Chest tight, your fingertips dug into the railing. Comfort meant nothing when your dad was gone. The irony struck you even back then – your dad saved others, and no one came to save him.

For weeks following, your mom was a ghost. At first, neighbors stopped by to drop off casseroles and condolences. Soon though, their sympathy stopped, and the whispers began. You were young enough not to notice, too consumed by the enormity of your own loss.

Eventually though, you noticed something was off. Suspicious eyes followed you down the sidewalk. Mothers clutched at their children, hurrying them to the side of an empty street. One day, you traipsed downstairs and overheard your mom on the phone.

She sat at the kitchen table, facing away from the staircase. You paused on the landing, listening to your aunt’s voice blast on speakerphone.

“Nonsense,” she was saying. “Your husband was a hero, and anyone saying otherwise is cracked. He saved your town!”

“I know.” Your mom blew her nose. “But now, people are wondering if he caused the storm. They’re saying maybe he… made the hurricane. It’s this new mayor,” she said, frustrated. “He hates Elementals and keeps insisting our family orchestrated this to collect money. He says –”

“Oh, no.” Your aunt sounded furious. “Don’t you repeat a single word that hateful man says.”

“He has a point, though,” your mom said, her voice low. “Did you hear about Uniontown? A fire Elemental accidentally set their barn on fire. Nearly burned the whole town. Magic is dangerous. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen, and now –”

“When was the last time your husband lost control, though? Are you saying you think he caused a hurricane?”

“God, no!” You watched your mom straighten. “But there are people saying… awful things.”

“Some people aren’t worth listening to.”

“I know.” Wearily, she exhaled. “They’re talking about Y/N, too, though. Apparently, she caused a tidal wave at the pool last weekend.”

Hearing your name said out loud, you shrank back in the shadows. You weren’t aware your mom knew about that, or that she cared. Bobby Clemmons teased Judith Bryce about her hair until finally, you snapped. Bobby was swept to the other end of the pool, much to Judith’s relief. She thanked you repeatedly.

Bobby was fine, except for some water up his nose. From the way he carried on though, you’d have thought he broke his arm.

Your mother lowered her voice, as though magic was something to be mentioned only in whispers. For the first time, a sense of shame crept over you. Your dad had always been open about magic, though stern. Stern in his belief magic should help people, not hurt. Never once did your dad insinuate magic itself was the problem.

Magic is dangerous.

Your mom’s words on the phone sank in as, your head pounding as you turned around to run up the steps. Even at six, you felt panic. If magic was dangerous and you were magical – that meant you were dangerous, too.

Slipping beneath your comforter, you stared at your shaking hands. Rain hit your windows, snowballing your worry to full-on fear. By the time your mom rushed upstairs, you were rocking under the covers as a storm raged.

She helped to calm you down, got your magic under control and a month after, you moved far away from the sea. A version of yourself vanished as you passed the pier. Despite this, you felt instant relief at the thought of control.

You remember your mom smiling when you joined the highway. “This will be good,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A fresh start, away from it all. You can be whoever you want to be, Y/N.”

Except for the person you actually were.

Her meaning was clear, even if she didn’t say it out loud. At the time, you found the thought soothing. If you didn’t want to use magic, you didn’t have to. You never had to become your dad, who all your friends said had caused the bad storm. Even the news had turned against you.

Earth Elemental suspected behind San Raoul earthquake!

Jailed air Elemental claims innocence against onslaught of tornadoes!

Fire Elementals flee after string of arson!

Always the exclamation point. Always the lurid fascination that blame could be pinned on a single person. New rules were implemented in the house. No magic, except in your mom’s presence. This soon became no magic at all, but you didn’t mind. Whenever you did use magic, it felt wild, chaotic – the opposite of how you wanted to feel.

Your early years were marked by the struggle to conceal your powers. Years passed without incident and then, something would happen, and you’d have to move. Your mom never begrudged you, simply packed the house to travel to the next city. Each time, you promised you’d do better but by the time you realized school wasn’t for you, you had moved no less than six times.

Art was a risk, though one you found necessary.

Creation meant tapping into emotion, but you found methods of coping. Painting was the only place you loosened the reins on your magic, and so it became an outlet of sorts. A release, preventing your emotions from spilling into unwanted places.

There were other strategies, as well. Deep breathing. Counting backwards from one hundred. Focusing on one point, then on another until the magic calmed in your veins. Until you forgot the dangerous and destructive water around you.

Some people proved more reactionary to you than others. With some people, your magic responded so strongly, you were forced to cut them out completely. The first person this happened with was your best friend, Katrina. You were fourteen when she confided in you her family was fire Elementals. In response, your magic surged.

For a glorious summer, you practiced magic in secret. Each morning, you and Katrina bounded through the woods towards the far creek. You summoned great waves of water for Katrina to singe into mist. Everything was fine until late one evening, your mom caught you. She witnessed the combined magic and lost her temper.

Dragging you from the woods, your mom slammed the front door in Katrina’s face. She sat you down at the kitchen table, delivering a scolding you’ve never forgotten.

Do you know how reckless you were? What if a tree had caught fire? What if you altered the town’s water supply? What if someone saw and the next time a disaster happened, they blamed it on you – or Katrina?

Stricken by these very real possibilities, you promised not to do it again. Although you begged not to move, your mom packed the next day – your fastest exit ever.

The second time you cut someone out was after high school. Elliot was an artist, a quiet guy who dabbled with oils. He saw you painting one day in the park and silently set up his easel beside yours. This happened for weeks until he asked you out. Your ensuing romance was brief and sweet, and your feelings grew within a short period of time.

When Elliot told you he loved you, you dissolved into panic. You could feel how your magic responded, reaching for water that surged through his tiny apartment. Tossing on clothes, you stammered apologies and fled into the night.

For weeks following, it rained. Enough for the reporters to forecast local flooding. The fact terrified you – imagining people trapped on top of cars, small businesses flooded, the Red Cross called in to ferry locals to safety. It took your mom flying out to put you at ease, clearing the skies and regaining control.

Since then, you haven’t let anyone else past your inner walls. Until Jungkook.

Swallowing hard, you stare at his apartment and wonder if you’ll survive. Breaking up with Elliot is one of your worst memories and you only felt a fraction of what you do for Jungkook. Maybe you’ll conjure a hurricane, bringing the events of your life full circle.

Shutting your eyes, you rub at them dully. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You need to end it now, before things get worse. All day, you’ve gone over the facts and arrived at the same conclusion.

As expected, Jungkook was livid about Pierre last night. He wanted to confront your boss himself, although quickly backed off when he realized this was your battle. This though, turned to confusion when you said your intent to do nothing.

Although you tried the usual excuses, none of them stuck. Even if it was just once, Jungkook argued, it shouldn’t go unnoticed. You snapped slightly at this, insisting you’d deal with things in your own time.

Getting angry near Jungkook was peculiar. Suddenly, you became aware of the water around you. Thick, leaden pipes lacing Jungkook’s walls. Moisture that hung in the air, in the clouds – within his very veins. The thought terrified you, wondering what you might do accidentally.

Your panic must have been visible, because Jungkook instantly softened. Crossing the room, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “It’s just… I hate seeing you hurt. Of course, you know what’s best. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

His grip grounded you, enough that your magic dissipated, and that you realized a truth you’d hidden for some time.

You were in love with Jungkook.

No one in your life had ever been like him. Someone who was always in your corner, who protected you when they could and lifted up parts they couldn’t. Someone who liked everything about you – even the parts you weren’t brave enough to admit.

Studying his face, you tried to ignore the sudden ache in your chest. Even last night, you knew the inevitable. Memorizing his face, you tried hard to hold on. Jungkook’s slightly rounded nose, his full bottom lip accentuated by two piercings. Dark hair fell over his forehead; strong features contrasted by a soft gaze.

Jungkook watched you as well, and you wondered if he felt the same. Wondered why he’d commit you to memory, since you were the lucky one. He was the miracle, and you were biding your time.

Bending, he lightly brushed your mouth against his. Instantly, you melted. It wasn’t your first kiss and prayed it wouldn’t be the last, but something about last night felt different. Walking the two of you backwards, Jungkook pressed you against the wall and kissed you harder. His touch became desperate, one hand sliding beneath the lines of your blouse.

Your breath hitched at the brush of his fingers, delicious and warm against skin. His touch unknotted a hidden, tangled piece of your soul.

Ever since you met Jungkook, you’d held yourself separate. When you asked him to go slow in the beginning, he agreed. Touching was fine. Kissing was fine. Anything more, and you lost control.

About a month into dating, you met Jungkook at a bar and got tipsy. Three drinks in, you were frantically making out in an alley outside. Jungkook panted, “my place?” against your mouth, and you nodded. The journey back to his place was fast and slow, pausing in every dark place to drag his mouth to yours.

The second his door shut, you found yourself stumbling – into his bedroom, his bed, the confines of his heart. Shoes were discarded with every step, and Jungkook couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. You returned his fervor in spades, nipping his lower lip to watch him smile.

When he fell back on the bed, you saw his pulse quicken. Staring up at you, Jungkook watched your clothing disappear with a gaze so dark, it bordered on onyx. Climbing onto him, you resumed kissing with a newfound reverence. Eyes falling shut, you did your best to stay present.

Each brush of his lips was combustive, each touch of his hands filling you with sharp, pulsing light. And then –

The sink and shower in his bathroom burst on.

Startled, you pulled away and realized it had been you. Your magic had caused it, flooding his bathroom with water. Swearing under his breath, Jungkook scrambled out of bed to hastily turn off both faucets.

You sat there on his bed, heart pounding with fear. By the time he returned, you were already dressed and mortified. Jungkook was all apologies, certain he’d moved too fast, but you assured him he hadn’t. Anything that happened, you were an equal participant – too much maybe, although you didn’t say so out loud.

Lying in bed that night, you stared up at your ceiling. For a moment, it felt as though you were six and under the covers at your old house. Magic was dangerous. You would eventually hurt someone. Dread pooled in your stomach, recognizing the truth. If you couldn’t control your magic around Jungkook, you’d have to end things.

Heartache chased the thought, filling you with so much panic, you nearly drowned. Pushing this aside, you simply resolved to do better. To be better and keep both Jungkook and magic. This was simply another challenge; you owned your magic, not the other way around.

Thus, began the two best and worst months of your life. The best, since you’ve been dating Jungkook and the worst, because at every moment, you’re terrified of hurting him. Walking a line as thin as a razor, you’ve fallen in love while trying your best not to feel.

Until last night, you thought you’d been successful. Life was mostly under control, but then the Pierre debacle took place. Then Jungkook kissed you with such intensity, you forgot who you were and why you’d been holding back. Two long months of restraint and suddenly, you came undone at the seams.

Before long, you were again in his bedroom. Jungkook stripped off his clothes, bare skin pressing to yours with a searing intensity. Pulling you over him, a low hiss escaped while he kissed your throat. Even through his boxers, you could feel how hard Jungkook was. How badly he wanted this; a need you returned.

The thought of him inside you made you frantic. Pushing Jungkook onto his back, you straddled his waist and rocked forward.

Jungkook lay underneath you, his hair a dark halo. Suddenly, you could feel water everywhere. Magic, everywhere – it was in you, around you, in Jungkook’s walls and molecules. Everything felt so utterly fragile, and your magic responded.

Ferocious, it strained at your self-crafted bonds. Realizing how precarious your grasp on control was, your emotions slipped into panic.

You had to leave. Now.

Sensing the change in your body, Jungkook paused.

“I – I’m sorry,” you blurted, scrambling off him. Bending for your pants, you pushed one leg through and hastily zipped. “I need to go.”

Jungkook stared, frozen in place. “I…” Shaking his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Stomach dropping, you roughly shook your head. Part of you ached to correct him but your magic was barely leashed, and you weren’t certain how much longer it’d hold.

Your magic wasn’t something you wanted Jungkook to see.

Frantically throwing on your shirt, you rushed towards his front door. His dog, Bam, whined from the couch and lifted his head as you passed. Yanking open his door, you escaped to the hall and downstairs. You heard Jungkook call after, but he didn’t follow, for which you were grateful.

Remembering his face broke your heart as you entered the subway. You kept your magic at bay until reaching your building, at which point rain swept the city in waves. Soaked through, you got in the elevator and saw Jungkook had texted. Shaking, you responded you’d talk to him tomorrow and turned off your phone.

Rain poured all night and you barely slept. By the time you woke, your mood had gotten worse. Work was torture. Even the lunch shift couldn’t save you, the looming specter of Jungkook impossible to forget. When Pierre showed up around one, you knew you were doomed. His glower could be felt all the way across the restaurant and no matter what you did, you somehow stayed in his way.

With little to no sleep and haunted by last night, the grip on your magic was tentative at best. Your entire shift, it hovered at the edge of your fingers. When Pierre commented you looked tired, the rain outside worsened. When a table of middle-aged men called you ‘girlie,’ their water glasses shook.

It was miraculous nothing happened until the end of your shift. That was the moment Pierre’s friends arrived, seating themselves at the table you gave away last night. One of them laughed as you poured them water, and you managed to push down your snide remark.

Glasses full, you turned around to go and the same one grabbed your waist.

You went still.

For so long, you’ve hidden your magic to protect others. You’ve kept them from hurting and there you were, broken, and no one cared about you. Just like no one cared about your dad, in the end. Teeth gritted, you whirled – and the entire water pitcher dumped itself at him.

At him, not on him.

You didn’t trip. Didn’t throw the water, although either would have been preferrable. Instead, the water leapt from the pitcher to slap the man in the face.

Horrified, you stared as reality sunk in. You had just assaulted a guest – a friend of Pierre’s, at that.

Shocked, the man wiped water down his visage. The entire restaurant fell silent, every eye in the room locked on you. Panic-stricken, you stammered an apology, flung a napkin on the table and fled into the kitchen.

The moment you crashed through the doors, you were hailed a hero. Izumi, your line cook, wistfully recalled the one time she punched a guy who grabbed her ass. Georgina added that once, she spit in the drink of a man who called her a bitch.

Both tactfully avoided the fact that you were an Elemental, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel marginally better – maybe you wouldn’tbe fired, after all – when the door to the kitchen swung open and Pierre stormed through. Seeing his face, your heart sank.

“You!” Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed. “Y/N – pack your things! You’re done here. Fired. You think you can insult my friend, pull some magic bullshit on him, and continue to work here? Fuck that. Get out – now!”

A pin could have been heard in the silence. Coming to your senses, you did exactly as asked and got your things. Pierre hadn’t mentioned pressing charges, and you didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Outside, you stood on the sidewalk and stared at the bus stop. Storm clouds brewed above, a visualization of your inner turmoil. Eventually, you turned and trudged down the subway.

Things had reached a point you couldn’t ignore anymore. You were beyond out of control. Emotions surged and strained against your internal walls, threatening everyone you held dear. The city didn’t deserve to be punished, even if no one within it knew of your sacrifice. Pierre’s friends were awful, but you could’ve just as easily lost your temper with someone you loved.

Someone like Jungkook, whom you couldn’t seem to be around without incident.

That was the reason most people feared Elementals. It was selfish of you to put your desires ahead of another person’s safety. The only way to protect someone you loved was to stay away.

Starting with Jungkook. You just wished he didn’t have to get hurt in order for that to happen.

Standing outside his building, you take a deep breath and press the buzzer. You wait for several long moments, wondering if he’s home and then –

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Leaning in, you press 316. “Hey. It’s me. Y/N.”

A weighted pause, and then –

“Come in.”

The door unlocks, and you push it inside. Climbing the steps to his place, your heart starts to pound. The last time you saw Jungkook, you were running away. The last text he sent was, ‘ok,’ in response to your message. If you were Jungkook, you wouldn’t be thrilled to see you.

Coming to a stop outside 316, you lift your hand and knock. A howl responds, followed by the patter of gigantic dog footsteps. Unable to stop your smile, you shake your head at the chaos.

“It’s just me, Bam!” you say, and he stops.

Bam’s howl is replaced with a whine and the sharp thwack-thwack of his tail on the door.

“Bam, out of the way,” Jungkook calls, his voice coming closer. A few seconds later, the door flies open to reveal your boyfriend.

You only catch a glimpse before Bam barrels out, nearly knocking you over. Legs and tail akimbo, he slobbers all over until you bend to pet him. Once satisfied, Bam turns around and trots back inside.

Silence falls between you, and you look up to see Jungkook. He’s dressed casually, sweatpants and a t-shirt bought at a concert you attended. He hasn’t moved aside, blocking you from entering.

Uncertain, you straighten. “Can I come in?”

Slowly, he nods and moves. You walk past him, trying not to focus on the heat of his shoulder. This might be the last time you see Jungkook, so you try to focus on that. Not the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Hearing the door shut, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I can’t stay too long,” you admit, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

Jungkook regards you warily. His expression makes your chest ache, unused to him with such a stern expression. After last night, you suppose it’s earned. You should probably get used to it.

“Y/N.” His jaw works. “What’s going on?”

Deciding honesty is the best policy – up to a point – you force out your next words. “I think we should break up,” you say in a rush.

With a low whine, Bam slinks in the direction of the bedroom. Jungkook glances at him, distracted, before facing forward.

“What do you mean?” His head tilts. “Like, you want to take a break?”

Steeling yourself, you shake your head. “No. As in, I want to break up. Permanently.”

A train passes by the building, rumbling the floorboards underneath. Most people would avoid living in this building for that reason, but Jungkook was overjoyed by the prospect of discounted rent.

He doesn’t seem overjoyed now, though. Instead, he looks stricken.

“Walk me through this,” Jungkook says, walking closer. The set of his mouth has turned stubborn. “I don’t follow. Why are we breaking up again?”

The knot in your chest tightens. You should have known Jungkook wouldn’t make this easy on you. “We’re not good together,�� you say, only to correct yourself. “I mean, I’m not good for you. I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

He comes to a stop. “I can wait, Y/N. I don’t mind.”

Reaching for you, Jungkook’s brows crease when you take a step backwards. His hand falls between you, and he stares at the empty space. The crack in your heart widens, made worse by his silence.

“I mind, though,” you force yourself to say. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Jungkook. That’s not fair to either of us. It’s too much pressure.”

The words make your heart splinter, reaching a point you aren’t sure can be reassembled. Maybe the pieces will simply lodge in your muscle, bruising your insides each time you draw breath.

“I won’t pressure you,” Jungkook says, automatic. His frown deepens. “Tell me what this is really about, Y/N. Is this about sex? It’s fine if we don’t have it.” Stepping closer, he takes your hand and you let him. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Somewhat manic, you shake your head – and then nod.

Sex is a part of the problem, but it’s not the root cause. Sex with Jungkook is unthinkable. You can barely remain in control when you kiss, let alone allow more. With your past partners, this wasn’t an issue, but your past partners weren’t Jungkook.

Never have you met someone able to scramble your thoughts with a kiss. Whose gaze melted inhibitions and tore down every wall. You have little doubt that with Jungkook, you’d lose full control, and the thought is terrifying. Already, your makeshift barriers are weakened.

Rain splatters against the window, and your stomach lurches.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Jungkook says, returning your attention to him. “What’s this about? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

He takes your other hand, and you realize how close he stands. “Is it work?” Jungkook asks, a crease between brows. “Is there… some reason you can’t quit? You can tell me, Y/N.”

An odd zing of disappointment goes through you. For a moment, you thought Jungkook had guessed your secret, and this could all be avoided. If Jungkook knew what you were and that you lied to him – well, he’d end things for you. Hesitant, you consider revealing that truth but can’t seem to form words. It would devastate you, seeing fear replace love in his eyes.

“Work isn’t the problem,” you say at last. “It’s us, Jungkook. Or – it’s me. I don’t want to be together anymore.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, and you idly wonder what will happen if Jungkook refuses. Even as you think this though, his expression shifts. Jungkook takes a careful step backwards, dropping your hands entirely.

He’s never been good at hiding emotion. Jungkook is your opposite in that way, revealing every shift of thought and desire. You watch confusion become anger, then bitterness a moment before he turns away. The set of his shoulders is still, staring out the window as yet another train passes.

Restless, he turns to drag a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you,” he declares. “This is so out of nowhere, Y/N. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything,” you say, panic rising. “And this isn’t out of nowhere! I’ve been telling you for months I need to take things slow and this – well, this is the opposite of slow, Jungkook!”

Jungkook stares back at you, heated. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the tension thick in between you. Eventually, you look away first and pull your bag tighter.

“Right,” you exhale. “Well, I should go –”

Striding forward, Jungkook reaches you to cup your face with both palms. Gently, he lifts your face towards him, and all thoughts cease completely. Gaze searching, his breath fans across your parted lips.

Jungkook’s gaze intensifies. “I don’t believe you,” he murmurs.

Adrenaline zips under your skin, stirring your magic into a deadly storm. Entire body tense, you suppress the urge to fight or flee. So often, you’re the one running but right now, you feel more compelled to fight.

A knife in you twists, knowing you’re a coward. If you were stronger, you could keep Jungkook. No matter how understanding he is, the fact remains that if he stays with you, Jungkook remains in danger. Each passing day only worsens the pain.

His face blurs. With a start of surprise, you realize there are tears on your cheeks. The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens, noticing as well.

“You’re not listening,” you blurt. “I can’t see you any longer, Jungkook. It’s in your best interest, I promise – I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

Reaching up, you remove his hands from your face and head for the door.

Jungkook follows close behind. “Which is it, then?” he demands. “You want me to go slowly, or you feel too much?”

Pressure weighs every inch of your skin, demanding you answer. Anything that comes out now will only make things harder. Reaching the door, you feel Jungkook’s hand on your shoulder. Caving, you don’t fight when Jungkook turns you to face him.

He’s too close to you. Too much and too close, his one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. Slowly, his thumb strokes the elongated line of your throat. You swallow, hard, and his gaze follows the motion.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to yours. “You keep saying you’re no good for me,” he says, his voice low. “But what if I don’t care? Don’t I get a say in this decision?”

The force of holding in your magic worsens, becoming near impossible. Hastily built walls threaten to collapse, and reality blurs between one moment and the next.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, your hand searching behind you. “I have to go.”

Finding the doorknob, you twist and stumble backwards. Jungkook watches you go, the look on his face physically painful as you turn around. Each second that follows is pure concentration, trying not to break before getting outside.

The ocean is only a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment.

Reaching the harbor, rain pelts your face in a way that feels punishing. Magic makes your limbs tremble, escaping your body in wisps of fog and rain. The moment you arrive at the harbor, you shatter, collapsing forward to grip your knees with both hands.

Eyes pressed tightly shut, you hear the storm howl. Waves churn the harbor, sloshing over the sidewalk in an attempt to get closer. No tidal waves, you plead in an attempt at reason. No whirlpools, no water spouts.

Your magic listens in this regard, at least. By the time your eyes open, a curtain of rain mingles with tears on your cheeks. Staring out at the ocean, each inch of your body is numb.

Jungkook will never forgive you for this.

The thought banishes all the rest. You can’t say that you blame him. Slowly, you exhale as you lift your gaze. The chasm in your chest widens, becoming something unbreachable. This is all your fault. You wish there was some satisfaction in knowing this, but there isn’t.

Eventually, the rain dulls, and you push yourself upright. Your sneakers squish with every step, the silence all-encompassing as you ride on the subway. Entering the building, you remove your shoes and collapse on your bed, fully clothed. Thankfully, your roommate isn’t home, so you aren’t forced to explain the events of tonight. Seokjin would have wanted to discuss, and you aren’t sure you can without breaking down.

Burrowing your face into the pillows, you manage to cry yourself asleep. Rain doesn’t let up the entire night.

“Tell me again.” Taking a seat at the table, Seokjin spoons yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open one eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped forward. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be, though,” he says, pointing with his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away whenever things got bad.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” Seokjin lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you bury your head deeper into your arms. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, his spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. Pushing his chair back to stand, Seokjin heads for the sink and turns on the tap. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better off without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, and close your eyes.

Two days have gone by since your decision to end your relationship with Jungkook. It hasn’t been great, to put things mildly. On Monday, you barely left your room and rain poured from the sky. When you did enter the kitchen, the weather person on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin arrived from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped stop the storm. You sagged with relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embraces their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he was raised to take over their magical consulting business. Said business does well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous, three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and here you are. One of the few people in the city willing to room with an Elemental.

You don’t care what Seokjin does with his magic, although his laissez-faire attitude can occasionally be unnerving. You’ve lived your entire life with the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need is a quick Google search to reinforce this fact. But then there’s Seokjin, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your powers about a month into rooming together. Coming back from a trip, Seokjin opened the door to stare, slack-jawed, as plates washed themselves in the sink. Glancing up from your book at the table, you immediately sent two dishes crashing onto the floor.

Seokjin stared at this for a moment, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he declared and walked into his bedroom. After a moment, he popped his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He slapped the doorframe once and disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand your avoidance of magic, but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until something like this happens and he’s again at a loss.

“Listen.”

Turning around, he shuts the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grimace. “What now?”

Seokjin raises both hands. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant, ‘learned life experience.’ Through mistakes.”

“Was there a question in all that?”

“No question.” Loosely, he gestures. “Just wanted to say you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure this out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insist. I don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Listen.” Seokjin’s smile turns slightly sinister. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh and sit back. “But seriously – thank you. This will give me some time to come up with a plan.”

Seokjin nods, tracing the rim of his coffee. Absently, he glances down the hall at the empty third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you say, automatic.

His right brow lifts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time off to work on my art.”

“Okay.” Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe you did know. But seriously, Y/N – why not?”

Weary, you exhale. “Because every time I try to paint, I get this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I felt comfortable using my magic. Now… I don’t know. I can’t seem to use my magic anywhere. Even my art.”

Seokjin tilts his head, thoughtful. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t know – a few months?”

“Not long after you started dating Jungkook.”

Staring at Seokjin, you realize he’s right. That’s exactly around when you began dating Jungkook. The block happened not long after. Thinking about the early days of dating are painful though, and so you choose not to.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare with a shake of your head. “Right now, what I need is a job. And to earn money. Preferably in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order changes. I know a guy.”

Before you can consider his offer too seriously, your phone rings on the table. Glancing down, your heart constricts at your mom’s name. It isn’t that you don’t want to talk. It’s that if you do, Jungkook’s name will come up, and you’ll be forced to explain why you two aren’t together. Right now, you’re managing to cope by avoiding the topic. You aren’t sure what will happen if you’re forced to confront it.

Not to mention the very real possibility your mom will be happy. She liked Jungkook, but she always worries whenever someone new enters your life.

Also glancing at your phone, Seokjin scowls. “Don’t answer it,” he says, walking past. “Whenever you talk to your mom, things get even worse.”

Seokjin’s not wrong. Your mom means well – really, she does – but talking to her tends to leave you exhausted. Still, you know from experience it’s better to answer now.

“I know,” you sigh and stand up. “But if I don’t pick up now, she’ll just keep calling. Hey,” you say, pressing answer. “One second, mom.”

Ignoring Seokjin’s sad shake of his head, you scoop up your coffee and head for your bedroom.

Closing the door to your room, you lean backwards. “Hi, mom,” you say, lifting your phone to your ear. “Sorry about that. I was eating breakfast. How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” your mom says, and you can practically hear her smile. “Same old, same old. The better question is, how are you? I saw on the weather there’s some flooding by you. Hope you’re alright!”

Grimacing, you move the phone to speaker. You should have known your mom would check in. Reading between the lines of her question, you can hear what she’s really asking. Your mom wants to know if you caused the flooding – an answer which is undeniably yes, but she doesn’t have to know that.

Setting down your half-empty mug, you flop face-first on your bed. Less information tends to be more with your mom. You’re debating what to say when she solves the problem for you.

“I know you haven’t had a slip in years,” she continues. “But if there’s another water Elemental in town, you should try to steer clear of them! Being around them could set you off – that’s what happened to Becky’s nephew, she said.”

Fighting an eye roll, you roll on your back. Becky Mayweather is your mom’s best friend in the entire world and one of your least favorite people. She’s the type to bake cookies, offer a shoulder to cry on – and then promptly turn and gossip to the neighbors about it. She fancies herself an Elemental expert because a few of her friends married them. Funnily enough, neither you nor your mom have met these friends in person.

“Oh?” you ask. “I never noticed.”

“It’s true! You know that I worry, Y/N. All alone in the city with another Elemental for a roommate…”

Annoyance spikes in your stomach. “His name is Seokjin, and I’m an Elemental too, mom. His mom could say the same thing about me.”

Seokjin’s mom could be saying that, but she wouldn’t because Seokjin’s mom and dad are both magic enthusiasts. The few times you met them, they were nothing but kind.

“Oh, Y/N.” Your mom sighs. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Watch your tone,” she says. “I’m only telling the truth. You work hard on controlling your magic. Your roommate, on the other hand, uses his magic willy-nilly. In broad daylight! You two couldn’t be more different.”

Your mom isn’t wrong about that, although not for the reason she thinks. Seokjin does use his magic freely, but you’re the one at risk of hurting others – not him.

“Seokjin is a good guy,” you say tightly. “He’s letting me stay here, rent-free, while I search for another job.”

“Another job?” Her voice pitches. “What happened to the job at that restaurant?”

Cursing yourself for your own stupidity, you close your eyes. “Um… I was let go. Difference of opinions with management.”

“Oh. Well. That’s too bad, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best – you don’t want to be working for someone you don’t respect, right?”

Some of your anger lessens at her genuine sympathy. It’d be easy to paint your mom as the villain but truthfully, she comes from a good place. You know that she loves you; she just doesn’t want to lose you the same way she lost your dad.

Exhaling deeply, you reach to grab a pillow. “I’ve been trying to paint,” you say. “It hasn’t been going well.”

“No?”

You frown at the obvious joy in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Well…” Your mom draws the word out. “We always knew art was a risky hobby, Y/N. Painting. With watercolors. Something could easily go wrong and put you in danger.”

“I know, mom.”

“Actually,” she adds, her excitement growing. “Maybe this is a sign. Y/N – what if this means your powers are weakening?”

Your entire body goes still. “What?”

“Yes!” she says, oblivious to the panic in your voice. “You always loved watercolors because they made sense to you, right? Because of your… well, magic. What if a block means your powers are growing weaker? I wonder if other Elementals ever lose touch with their magic. I’ll have to ask Becky.”

Irrational anger surges within, and you hear the faucet in your bathroom turn on. Hastily, you work to turn it back off.

“You don’t need to do that,” you blurt. “I’ll research it myself. Actually, I should get going – I wanted to apply for some jobs this morning.”

“Oh, yes – good call, honey. You go and apply. Let me know if you need help. Becky has connections with the local university. I’m sure someone could help you update your resume – or even apply, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Thanks,” you say, although it absolutely does not. “That’s a nice offer.”

“Have a good day, honey – I love you!”

“Love you, too,” you say before hanging up.

Dropping the phone onto your bed, you hug your pillow tightly. It takes several long minutes to relax, wading your way through an anxious sea of thought. Although your mom means well, conversations with her tend to leave you feeling drained. Since you were young, it’s felt like your mom has an idea of the perfect child, and they aren’t you.

Eventually, you stand to bring your mug to the kitchen. Seokjin is busy making another pot of coffee, the delicious scent wafting overhead.

Passing him by, you eye this warily. “Isn’t that your third pot this morning?”

“And?” Seokjin reaches for his mug. “You’ve had three cups yourself.”

“Touché,” you sigh, collapsing on the couch.

Minutes later, Seokjin enters the living room and hands you a mug.

Staring into the drink, you say, “Thanks.”

Settling onto the sofa, Seokjin examines you over the rim of his coffee. You ignore him, taking a long sip of your drink. A summer breeze wafts through the window, and with a flick of his wrist, Seokjin sends it back out.

A stab of envy goes through you, although you know it’s irrational. Seokjin always makes magic look easy, but you’ve never found it to be so. Maybe when you were younger, before the crippling fear and anxiety had a chance to set in. The only time magic ever felt normal was when you painted and now, you can’t even do that.

Thinking about painting makes you think about Jungkook though, causing the dull thud in your chest to become a sledgehammer. You miss him. Miss the easy way Jungkook made you laugh. How he insisted on constantly touching some part of your body.

Cupping your mug of coffee, you take another sip and sink into the sadness.

“Far be it from me to dole out advice.” Seokjin interrupts your tiny pity party. “But I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

Too exhausted to argue, you merely exhale. “What’s the right way, then?”

His head tilts. “I don’t know. But I find it weird your block appeared around the same time you started dating Jungkook. You’ve…” Seokjin hesitates, and you recognize his how-do-I-put-this-delicately face. “You’ve given up a lot over the years, Y/N. Maybe this time, you gave up more of yourself than you realized.”

Silently, you wonder whether he’s right. For too long, you’ve gone through the motions of life without really living. Too scared of letting people in, scaring them off, of being yourself. Perhaps giving up Jungkook will be the final straw. The thought doesn’t comfort you, and you have no response.

After a moment, Seokjin turns on the TV. The morning slips by, though you can’t help but think about his earlier comments – could you control your magic if you tried harder? The moment you think this, you instantly banish the thought. You’ve been attempting for months, and nothing has worked.

With this cheery thought, you allow yourself to sink further into melancholy. Only this time, the water rushing overheard isn’t your friend. You aren’t sure it ever was.

Wednesday morning, you leave the apartment in a haze. You thought that by today, things would be better but if anything, the situation seems to be worse.

Missing Jungkook is painful.

It hurts more than you thought, which might sound stupid, but that doesn’t make it any less true. When you and Elliot broke up, it was sad, but you knew it was for the best and that lessened some of the pain. Now though, each beat of your heart prevents the wound from closing. A tentative scab in one second, only to be torn open the next.

Jungkook always sent you good morning texts. Not because he was up before you, but because he went to bed so late, it was only an hour or two before you awoke. His words were the first thing you read in the morning, smiling sleepily at his rambling. Sometimes, Jungkook would include a late-night snack recipe. Always, he’d end with something he liked about you.

His silence is deafening. Something not even your favorite coffee shop can fix, although you try. Standing in line, you aimlessly flip through songs on your phone. Today, you promised Seokjin you’d attend at least two interviews. The first one is in an hour at a sushi restaurant. Before then, you plan to load up on caffeine and organize your thoughts.

When the line moves forward, you flip to your messages. No new texts. Unsurprising, but it rends the scab in your heart anew.

Facing forward, you remove an earbud to order. “Hi,” you say, mustering a smile. “I’ll have an iced americano with rose syrup.”

“Got it.” The barista barely looks up. “That all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Want a receipt?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” She nods. “That’ll be ready soon at the end of the counter.”

Nodding your thanks, you replace the ear pod. Cranking your music louder, you wait for your coffee and lean against the counter. The coffee shop is tiny, empty for a weekday after the morning rush. Aimless, you glance over the clustered tables.

Your thoughts are on Jungkook before they can be stopped. You wonder what he's doing, what he’s wearing, whether he’s blocked your number yet from his phone.

A talented graphic designer, Jungkook works mostly on commission and on his own time. He does well for himself – enough to afford rent on his own place. Your mutual creative streak was something you had in common. Not your sleeping hours, that’s for sure.

Jungkook usually slept until nine or ten, then went to the gym before he made breakfast. You used to tease him about that, saying he couldn’t call it breakfast if –

Your heart falters. Jungkook must be on your mind since you seem to have hallucinated him here, at the coffee shop. You blink once, and then twice, but the mirage doesn’t fade, and you’re forced to conclude Jungkook is actually here.

Unfolding himself from a chair, he heads in your direction. Panicked, you glance at the counter, then back up. Your coffee hasn’t finished, which means that you’re trapped. Straightening, you do your best to seem natural and are certain you fail. Jungkook doesn’t just look natural, he is so as he approaches. At least, until you notice his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook does this when he’s nervous. Likely, he’s playing with the inside pocket lining. It hurts, knowing him so well, and not being his. When Jungkook comes to a stop, you stand mere inches apart.

“Jungkook,” you say, his name punched from your diaphragm.

He nods. “Hey.”

Uncertain, you glance down at the counter to check for your drink. Still nothing and, looking back, you tilt your head. “What are you doing here?”

Jungkook’s hands go deeper, if possible. “Getting coffee. Is that allowed?”

Your lips press together. “Sure. Theoretically, you can get coffee. What I’m asking though, is why you chose this coffee shop, five blocks away from your place. Usually, you’re not awake before noon.”

His expression is inscrutable. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

The silence between you lengthens, and not in a good way. You know why you’re quiet but can’t tell what Jungkook is thinking. You suppose that it’s possible he woke up early, forgot this was your favorite shop and went on a long walk for coffee – it’s possible, but unlikely.

At last, Jungkook exhales. “Alright, fine. I wanted to see you.”

“Y/N?”

Both of you turn at the sound of your name. Glancing between the two of you, the barista seems to pick up a weird vibe, dropping the cup to hurry away. Grateful for the interruption, you reach for your coffee and attempt to reset.

It’s not fair of Jungkook, corning you like this. You were already forced to end this once – unfair, making you do so again. Breaking up with him once was barely possible; twice is unthinkable.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?”

His voice interrupts your train of thought and, gripping your drink tightly, you turn.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Like, I don’t know.” His brow furrows, frustration obvious. “Anything, Y/N.”

Behind the counter, the barista fills a tea kettle to set this on the stove. You watch it instead of Jungkook, unsure how you’re going to do this again. The pressure of the water boiling is near tangible, mimicking the internal state of your mind.

Biting your tongue, you decide a safe exit is best. Jungkook will get the hint without you being forced to break his heart. Counting backwards from ten, you exhale and attempt to walk past.

“I’m sorry you came all this way,” you say in a murmur.

You’re nearly past Jungkook when you hear a soft swear. Only one more step happens before his hand grips your elbow.

“Y/N, please,” Jungkook breathes, turning you towards him.

Your gaze lifts and you start at his obvious pain. Staring back, Jungkook searches your face for something unspoken. Whatever he seeks, he must find it, since determination enters his.

You tear your gaze away. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jungkook.”

“I want to know if you were serious about breaking up.”

He’s still holding your elbow.

You must notice this at the same time, but neither of you move. Your gaze returns to his, drawn like a magnet and you realize your mistake when you can’t look away. Romeo’s line about Julie being the sun comes to mind, making sudden sense. You orbit around Jungkook, whether you like it or not.

In the background, a tea kettle whistles. “I meant what I said, Jungkook,” you say, forcing yourself to speak first. “I’m not good for you.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “But why,” he demands, frustration seeping through. You can hear in his voice the long nights of desperation, of little sleep in your absence. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Y/N. What did I do?”

A chasm in your chest opens, hating how easily he jumps to self-doubt. Before you can think better of it, you move closer.

“Nothing,” you say, one hand on his arm. “You did nothing wrong, Jungkook. I’m just not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

“But why not?” His gaze sharpens. “Everything was fine between us until Sunday.”

“Everything was not fine.”

Jungkook pauses, then barrels on. “When you say you can’t be in a relationship… what you’re really saying is you can’t be in a relationship with me.”

“With anyone,” you correct, although you aren’t sure that’s the truth.

Your magic has never been this temperamental. Possibly because this is the first time you’ve fallen in love. Dating someone not Jungkook would be safer, but the thought is abhorrent.

If you can’t have Jungkook, you don’t want anyone. That will be your punishment. Jungkook will move on, fall in love, and be happy with another person. Not you. No one else will compare, and if you can’t now, you doubt you’ll move past this crippling fear.

“You keep telling me that,” Jungkook says, growing heated. “But I’m the one you’re breaking up with, so it’s a little bit about me. You need to give me something, Y/N. Is this about your past? I know you don’t like to talk about your childhood, but I want to know.”

A loud buzzing fills your ears, gaze darting around. You haven’t told Jungkook much about your family, not wanting to invite questions about being an Elemental. The thought of him guessing sparks panic again, and the tea kettle on the stove whistles louder.

“People in my past hurt me,” you say in a rush. Magic itches beneath your skin, begging for escape. “That’s part of it, but not all.”

“What’s all, then?”

Frustration seeps past the wall, and several things happen. Your magic lashes out, a loud noise makes you jump, and the tea kettle shatters while hitting the floor. Water sloshes across the tile, steam hissing as the barista jumps back with a yelp.

Startled, you whirl around. One barista turns off the stove, another grabs a towel while a third finds a broom. Luckily, none of them seem injured – the tea kettle missed their skin. Taking a half-step towards them, you force yourself to stop. Although you want to help, that might make you seem guilty.

Already, the guilt within you is rising. You felt your magic overpowering you and chose to stay. If a barista had been hurt, it would’ve been your fault.

Turning back, you find Jungkook staring at the mess. He looks similarly shocked, twisting the knife in your gut. If he knew you caused this, he’d look at you that differently.

“You see?” you blurt, and he glances in your direction. “Everyone around me gets hurt. I can’t hurt you, too, Jungkook.”

Shoving open the door, you’re halfway outside when his words reach your ears.

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” he says softly. “You already have.”

The door shuts behind you, and you almost make it home before starting to cry. The skies open again above the city.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” you mutter, staring through the window.

The slightly dilapidated Ramen-rama tables stare back at you until the owner walks past. Catching you standing there, he motions you on.

Somewhat chagrined, you trudge down the sidewalk. Reaching a playground two blocks away, you collapse on a bench and attempt to be rational. Four different interviews. Spread across two different days. Each one ending the exact same.

One crappy interview, even two, and you’d understand. But four crappy interviews in the same way? Something weird is happening. Each interview, you arrived, greeted the owner, answered a few questions, and were thus informed the position was filled.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten a job. It was that your interviewers seemed nervous, staring hard at your resume and never your face. They seemed relieved when you left, as though you were liable to break something for fun.

“Hey. Did you interview this morning at Ramen-rama?”

Startled, you turn and find a stranger beside you.

You don’t recognize him; certainly you’d remember if you met before. Dressed in a Ramen-rama t-shirt, his dark hair is gathered in a bun on his head. His hair makes your chest ache, since Jungkook used to wear his like that.

“Um, yeah,” you say, yanking yourself from your daydreams.

He smiles and nods. “I thought that was you. Listen – I overheard the manager talking this morning on the phone while I was unloading the truck. I think he was talking about you, so I thought I should tell you what I overheard.”

Concerned, you straighten. “Uh, okay. What was he saying?”

“He was talking to your old boss – Pierre? Apparently, he’s calling around and warning people not to hire you. Said that you stole from him, or something. Not sure if it’s the same story for everyone, or if he’s making up shit up in the moment.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” The guy’s smile turns wry. “I’m assuming none of it’s true. You don’t look like the thieving type, but the boss is running a business, I guess. Can’t be too careful.”

“Right.” You pause, then shake your head. “I didn’t steal, just so you know. A guest was an ass to me, so I dumped water on him – on accident,” you add.

Laughing loudly, the guy clutches his bicycle. “Wow, I’d love to hear that story. Especially the part about it being an accident,” he adds with a wink, sticking out his hand. “I’m Wooyoung.”

“Y/N,” you say as you shake. “So. Pierre is calling people?”

Brow furrowed, Wooyoung pulls back. “Yeah. Sorry I had to tell you like this. Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to know, but figured I should.”

You push yourself to stand. “I do appreciate it. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.” Sheepish, he glances down the road. “I should actually get back if I don’t want to lose my job. Delivery,” he explains, nodding towards his bike. “Need the extra income.”

“Makes sense,” you say, forcing a smile. “Good luck.”

Wooyoung nods, then pauses in a way that feels familiar. He’s checking you out, you realize after a moment. Although flattering, it’s instantly followed by a rush of guilt. Wooyoung is cute and in another life, you’d say yes, but in every life, it’s hard not to want Jungkook.

Waving goodbye, Wooyoung climbs onto his bike and takes off. You head in the opposite direction, needing to put distance between you and Ramen-rama. If Pierre is shit-talking you across town, you’ll be hard-pressed to find another job at a restaurant. Owners are notoriously clicky and for how many restaurants there are, there are surprisingly few out of the loop.

Maybe you can ask the coffee shop if they’re hiring. Although you should probably avoid work with water for a bit. This drops your mood, your thoughts turning desperate. You’re so deep in an anxiety spiral, you nearly run into an open door on the sidewalk.

Jerking upright, you stare at faded, golden letters. Creative Courage is spelled in looping cursive over a frosted window. Art supplies fill a display case, while the other is clustered with art of all kinds. You spot sculpture, pottery, painting, and sketches before losing count.

Before you can chicken out, you push open the door.

Stepping in, tiny bells chime to announce your arrival. Soft, ambient light fills the space – a shop that’s two-fold, you realize now that you’re inside. The front sells art supplies while in the back stands a classroom. There’s a class in session now, several artists seated on stools before easels.

“Can I help you?” someone asks, stepping into your path.

Blinking, you focus. “Um, no – thank you! I was just looking.”

“Of course!” The woman beams, reaching up to arrange a clip in magenta hair. “That’s what we’re here for. If you do change your mind, let me know – we’ve got art supplies out front, and classes are held daily in back.”

“Classes?”

“Mhm.” Crossing her arms, the woman nods. “Mostly still life and figure drawing, but we’re hoping to add some more soon. Are you an artist?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

Immediately, you stiffen. “No. At least, not right now.”

Her lips twitch. “Not sure it works like that, unfortunately. Who you are can’t come on and off like a jacket. I like that, though,” she admits with a laugh. “Might borrow it the next time the muses aren’t singing.”

You can’t help but grin. “Exactly.”

Her head tilts, surveying you with unnerving intensity. “My name is Taryn. I co-own this place with my partner, Micah. They’re the one teaching right now.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat wistful. “That’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Her smile widens. “So, what was your preferred medium? You know, ‘back when’ you were an artist.”

You can’t help but laugh when Taryn lifts her hands to use air quotes. Some people have a way of making you feel included in their jokes, and Taryn is one of them. She teases you in a conspiratorial way, letting you know she understands. People often call art a labor of love, which can be true but more often, it’s a complicated tangle of love, pain and frustration.

“Watercolors,” you admit. “And my name is Y/N.”

Her eyes brighten. “We’ve been meaning to add a watercolor class for ages. Some of our regulars have asked, but Micah and I are both hopeless. Potter,” she explains, gesturing at herself. “And Micah prefers charcoal. Sometimes sculpture.”

“Wow,” you say. “Those are very different.”

“You don’t say.” Taryn laughs. “Micah likes to keep things fresh. What about you? Have you ever taught be– hang on,” she blurts, her eyes going wide. “Did you say that your name is Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your cheeks heat. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Whirling, Taryn hustles through the front room to duck behind a counter. Digging through several drawers, she pulls out a print to hurry back.

“Is this you?” she demands, thrusting this in your face.

Even cross-eyed and close, you recognize your most popular work. A watercolor series on the majesty and destruction of sea storms. Looking at this makes you feel raw, and so you look up.

“Yep,” you admit. “That’s me.”

Pulling back, Taryn looks at the print reverently. “You’re amazing. Micah was trying to do something similar but couldn’t capture the right feeling.”

Shuffling awkwardly, you shrug. You’ve never felt as though your work deserved acclaim, although it’s nice to know the series resonated with others. One of your favorite aspects of art is how it can be intensely personal but once shared, takes on a universal quality. You find it constantly surprising; how many people seem to share the same burdens.

“Seriously.” Taryn shakes her head wryly. “If you ever wanted to teach a class, let me know. We’d be lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” you say, stuffing both hands in your pockets.

You hadn’t realized your desperation was obvious. Or possibly Taryn is just incredibly good at reading others. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you stepped foot in the art world. Even before dating Jungkook, you felt your passion lagging. It’s been a long time since you wanted to connect with your inner voice, although merely the act of being here calls the tide in your blood.

Dangerous.

Recognizing this, you reinforce an inner wall. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’m not really looking for something right now.”

Taryn nods. “Sure. If things change though, just let me know – before next week,” she adds. “We try to publish our class schedule on the first of each month.”

“Will do. Thanks, again.”

“Anytime!” Beaming, Taryn spins to restock the next shelf.

Realizing your conversation is finished, you continue down the next aisle. The shop’s materials are superb, and your fingers are itching to reach out and touch. Reaching the front, you notice a quote painted over the register: Creativity takes courage – Henry Matisse.

You stare at this for a while, unsure why it hurts. Courage isn’t something you’ve thought about in a long time. When you were younger, you pushed people away because it was safe, but now you find yourself wondering who was that for – others? Or yourself?

Maybe the reason you keep yourself separate is because you are afraid people might leave you. Like Katrina. Or Elliot. Or even your dad.

Suppressing magic was hard at the start. Everything about it felt counter-intuitive but you reasoned doing the right thing often took effort. This is what you told yourself, anyways. It made said effort more bearable.

When you first began painting, the relief you felt was immense. After so long spent ignoring your emotions, you found a space to be free. Your series about the sea was oddly therapeutic, working through complicated emotions; your love for the ocean, coupled with fear of its wild beauty. Similar clashes within yourself about magic. And always, always, the desire for more.

For a few hours though, those feelings could be a part of you. Magic could be a part of you, so long as you remained in control – and with brush in hand, you were.

Only now does it occur to you that maybe, this wasn’t healthy. Maybe you shouldn’t feel the need to compartmentalize, as though certain pieces of yourself can only exist in certain spaces.

Tearing your gaze from the words, you exit the shop and gently shut the door. Pulling your jacket tighter, you head down the sidewalk and let your thoughts drift. Jungkook only saw you paint once, but the memory is hard to forget.

You had just started dating, barely past the stage of calling him ‘boyfriend.’ The constant influx of emotion was difficult to manage, and after a few weeks, you were exhausted. Most of your time spent without Jungkook was seated before your canvas. After one particularly frustrating session, you set down your paint to stubbornly stare at the canvas.

A throat cleared from behind.

Startled, you spun and found Jungkook standing there. His gaze moved quickly to yours, but you realized he’d been staring at your half-finished work. Normally, you felt panic at the thought of someone seeing a work in progress. That night though, the look on Jungkook’s face eased your concerns. Awe; pure and clear.

Yanking down giant, over-ear headphones, you hastily stood.

Jungkook lurched forward. “No!” he blurted, only to halt. “I mean – you don’t have to cover the painting. I liked it.”

He seemed flustered, which made you slightly flustered, but you took a slow step sideways. Eager, Jungkook’s gaze traversed the canvas.

Eventually, he looked back. “Sorry about that,” Jungkook said and walked closer. Warm hands found your waist. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How did you get in?” you laughed, burying your face in his chest.

“Seokjin.” He paused. “Did he not say I was here? I texted you a half hour ago, but you didn’t respond. I figured I’d stop by, and Seokjin said to come up.”

Softening, you made a mental note to chastise Seokjin later. Tightening your arms, you lifted your head and smiled.

“So.” Jungkook glanced over your shoulder. “This is you.”

This sent a thrill down your spine. He spoke as though he’d known you before, but only on a surface level and now, he understood. Jungkook knew your art was part of you, as much as your heart or your soul. You had often felt the same, but never said so out loud.

Magic swelled, and you pushed it back down, but it was difficult. When Jungkook bent his head, you forgot to be scared and let yourself feel. The brush of his lips. The tightening of his hands. The current within you, swelling against your highest walls.

Loudly, someone knocked on the door. Breathless, you jerked backwards and found Seokjin in the door.

“Hey.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Wanted to let you know our dishwasher broke. Flooded the kitchen.” Pointed, Seokjin looked at you. “Everything is all good, but I’m calling a plumber tomorrow. Carry on.”

In a flurry of embarrassment, you abruptly ended the evening and sent Jungkook home.

Remembering how the night ended, you stifle a groan and walk faster. Once more, you couldn’t control your magic and put Jungkook in danger. Hardly the creative courage Henry Matisse imagined.

You always assumed suppressing your magic was the best choice. But the best choice for who? Certainly not for you, who lives isolated, inert and in fear of yourself. Your dad used to call your magic a gift, but it’s been a long time since you felt that way.

This memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Since your dad passed, fear has replaced any joy your magic brought. Fear of falling victim to the same fate he did. Of others’ rejection. Of failing to live up to your father’s example.

You have little doubt that if your dad could see you now, he’d be confused by your actions.

You push others away in the name of saving them. Again, you think of Jungkook and for once you allow it. The entire way home, you wish that he’d call.

He doesn’t though and eventually, you stop hoping.

By Friday, the threads keeping your feelings at bay are nearly worn through. Intrusive thoughts push against fragile bonds, threatening the haven you’ve carefully crafted.

With more force than needed, you toss clothing into the washer. Your usual laundromat was closed, forcing you to walk five blocks to the next one. Sweaty from suddenly sweltering temperatures, your arms sore from the hamper, the situation does nothing to improve an already crappy mood.

Wiping your forehead with one arm, you slam the door and press start. The machine whirs to life, laundry tumbling in a way reminiscent of your inner turmoil. Up, you did the right thing by ending it with Jungkook. He’ll swiftly move on and find someone else. Down – but you don’t want him to find someone else. You want him to find you.

Teeth gritted, you turn and grab your hamper from the floor. Placing this on the washer, you wearily tug your cell phone from your pocket. By the time you walked home, you’d have to come back, leaving you with forty minutes to kill. You could read more of the book you just started. Or submit your resume to a couple of restaurants.

After yesterday’s disaster at Ramen-rama though, the interview process has stalled. Instead, you’ve found yourself thinking more about Creative Courage. For a brief moment, you even walked into the third bedroom to paint.

You immediately walked back out again, but merely the act was more than you’ve done in months. The thought of creation brought mostly panic, since it’d involve you being honest. Something you haven’t been with yourself in a while.

Because if you were honest, you know what you’d find. You would regret breaking up with Jungkook. Maybe even find that, deep down, you want to be selfish. You want to keep dating him, even if Jungkook gets hurt in the end.

After all, you saw what loving an Elemental did to your mom.

Putting down your phone, you scan the laundromat and find your gaze catching on the person in the next aisle.

No. No, no, no – absolutely not.

The universe – or whoever’s writing your story – must be cruel and unusual, since standing beside you is Jungkook. You’d recognize his head anywhere. Straightening from his hamper, Jungkook turns to face you and goes still.

Eyes wide, he seems stunned until someone slams shut their dryer. Both of you jump, breaking eye contact and time seems to reset. Pressing start on his machine, Jungkook grabs his gym bag and hoists it over one shoulder. He strides towards the exit, halfway there when you spring into action.

Dashing towards him, you cut him off at the dryers. Footsteps slowing, Jungkook meets your gaze with visible confusion.

“Sorry,” he says, tugging his gym bag behind him. The thick, grey strap of it cuts across his hoodie. “I was just leaving. I can come back later if you want to finish your load.”

Again, he tries to move past you, but something inside of you snaps. You aren’t sure what possesses you, but somehow, find your hand gripping his sleeve.

Startled, Jungkook stares.

Equally swift, you withdraw. “I, uh…”

Head spinning, all your words seem to fly out the window. Nothing about this was planned. You have no idea what to tell Jungkook besides I’m sorry, and even this would be woefully inadequate without explanation. Which you can’t give.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” you say at last.

A singular brow lifts. “No? You didn’t seem to think that way on Wednesday.”

You suppress a wince, although you try your best to hide it. “I know,” you admit. “It’s just… this is your usual laundromat. I don’t want you to leave because of me. I wouldn’t even be here, expect the one near me is broken and –”

“Got it,” he interrupts, the words tight. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have to be.”

Swallowing hard, you stare down at your shoes. You know you deserve this, but it’s just so hard to see Jungkook hurting. He deserves to be happy, not wasting his energy on hating you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your eyes start to burn, and you squeeze them shut to prevent a reaction. You absolutely cannot cry in front of Jungkook. Not when you’re the one who started this; the very last thing you want him to feel for you is pity.

“Hey.” Something in his tone shifts, and you hear Jungkook step closer. When you open your eyes, he watches you intently. “What’s wrong?”

A tiny fissure within your chest splinters.

Anyone else could have asked those words, and you would have been able to answer. For Jungkook to do so is unthinkable. You’re the one who ruined this. The one who hurt him, who ended this and still, Jungkook is concerned about your well-being.

“I was fired on Sunday,” you say in a rush. “Before I came to see you.”

He blinks only once before his face hardens. “Before you broke up with me, you mean.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Jungkook glances away. His expression is taut, and you feel a sharp pang of envy. It’s so easy to read Jungkook. You’ve spent so long hiding your emotions, it strikes you as luxurious how easily he feels.

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Y/N,” Jungkook says, turning back. “What are you doing?”

“What… do you mean?”

Fear spikes your heart, wondering if Jungkook has finally pieced the facts together. Maybe he saw more than you realized at the coffee shop. Maybe he finally knows what you are.

“Why are you… torturing me?” he clarifies, a slight rasp to his voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You were fired? That sucks, but it doesn’t make this okay. It doesn’t make us okay,” he adds, gesturing to the air between you.

“I – I know,” you stammer, nearly blurting out something you’ll regret.

Like that you’re an Elemental teetering close to the edge. One who can feel every pipe, every spin cycle within the walls of this laundromat. All of them churning, pulsing, begging for your magic to release the water inside.

“You know?” Jungkook stares at you, incredulous. “Again, Y/N – what do you want from me?”

Since you started talking, you’ve moved several steps closer. Another breath, another reach and you’d be in his arms. Glancing down, you notice how quickly Jungkook’s chest rises and falls.

He’s afraid, you realize. Jungkook’s fear isn’t the same one as yours, though. He isn’t afraid that you’ll see him, but rather that you’ll destroy him.

Realizing this, a barrier within you crumbles. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, somewhat desperate.

“You keep saying that.” Determined, he steps closer and somehow, your hand entwines with his to press against his chest. “You keep saying you don’t want this, but you won’t tell me why. Won’t tell me anything, Y/N – you were fired, and this is the first time I’m hearing it.”

“I couldn’t tell you!” you blurt. “I can’t explain it, Jungkook, but I couldn’t tell you when it happened.”

His gaze sharpens. “Then, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we are better off broken up.”

Releasing you, Jungkook brushes past you and heads for the exit. You stare blankly at the wall before you, your whole world caving in as your head starts to spin. Magic seeps beyond your fractured walls, flooding your veins in desperate search for an exit.

“That’s not true,” you protest, spinning around. “I’ve told you more than anyone else in my life, Jungkook. I’ve let you in in ways no one else has.”

Jungkook stiffens at the door, his entire body taut. For a single, long moment, it seems as though he might reconsider but the longer you stand there, the more you watch the fight drain from the lines of his shoulders.

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” he says, hand hovering above the doorknob. “But that’s not the same as letting me in.”

He starts to go.

Everything around you becomes white noise.

When you were ten, you passed a famous dam on one of your cross-country moves. Your mom took you to see it, swinging your hand while entering the viewing platform.

The moment you saw it, you went wholly still. Trillions of gallons of water, trapped behind concrete, constantly pushing but unable to break. It felt like your magic. Raw, untamed power contained by a solid wall. You stared for longer than any other visitor, until your mom pulled your arm and said you should leave.

The entire way to the car, your mom was silent and once you were buckled in, she twisted around to see you. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said, her voice serious. “That dam will only work if the wall holds. If the wall breaks, do you know what happens?”

Silent, you shook your head.

“The water will flood the whole valley. Everyone in its path, all the forest – they’d be gone. The wall can’t break, or bad things happen. Do you understand me?”

Solemn, you nodded because even then, you understood. Although your magical dam was intangible, it held equal importance. You had to hold in the magic, otherwise bad things would happen. So long as the wall was in place, you were safe.

Now though, you squeeze your eyes tightly as the wall starts to crumble.

Emotions break with the force of a tidal wave, racing ahead and drowning all in its path. Memories you thought were long buried continue to rise, crushing you further. Your walls are destroyed in a matter of seconds.

You remember your dad, kissing you on the head before leaving the house. Katrina’s stricken expression when the door shut in her face. Jungkook, asking you what he’d done wrong again.

Each memory drags you under, and you shudder against the onslaught. It takes everything you have to remain standing while your restraint dissolves.

Hands grip your arms.

Surprised, your eyes fly open to find Jungkook before you. His neck muscles strain, yelling to be heard over thundering water. You try your best to focus, to rein your magic back in – only to realize with horror, it might be too late.

The laundromat around you is in chaos. Several ceiling pipes have burst, water crashing down in torrents of water. Already, waves lap at your ankles. Noise filters back in, flickering before solidifying to something substantial.

People are screaming, abandoning their hampers in an attempt to get out. The door has stuck though, unable to open under the onslaught of water. Jungkook yells again, and this time you hear him.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, close to your face.

You stare upward, stupefied. Another pipe bursts, and you think that was you, but it’s hard to be sure. Hard to understand which parts are in control and which parts are not. What particular emotion is holding the reins at any moment.

Determination replaces fear in his face, and Jungkook bends before you have time to blink. In an instant, you’re tossed over his shoulder. A yelp escapes, upside-down but he’s already wading through the aisle of washers.

Jungkook shouts at people to move, but no one is listening. After a moment, you feel him exhale and surge forward. Although you can’t see, the people seem to be moving, so Jungkook must appear confident.

Grasping the door, he pulls on it, hard. Nothing happens. Exhaling, Jungkook grips your waist tighter and mutters, “Hold on.”

You don’t have time to ask why, since he yanks harder and the entire frame shudders. Jungkook does this again and another pipe bursts, drawing your gaze. By the time you look back, the door has budged an inch and water is pouring out. With a final wrench, Jungkook yanks open the door.

People shove past him, rushing into the street with the tide of water. Spinning around, Jungkook shields you with his frame from the wet crush of bodies. His grip never wavers, feet anchored to the ground as though they’ve rocks themselves.

With each breath, your pulse slows until finally, you locate the faint threads of magic. Before, you felt too much at once. The crush was overwhelming but now, you manage to breach the surface. For the first time, you see your panic influencing the tide.

Realizing this, you reach inward and try to – turn. With great effort, you identify the source of your power and disconnect. Water in the ceiling slows to a trickle, and then, nothing.

Exhaling against your neck, Jungkook’s hand moves lower.

You can’t help but shiver. “Jungkook?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… you know, set me down?”

“Oh.”

Somewhat sheepish, Jungkook lowers you to face him. He doesn’t step away, and neither do you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to be selfish and make it as long as possible.

He stares back at you, waterdrops caught between his lashes. In the background, water continues to drip from a pipe. The soft plink-plink echoes the thud of your heart.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Jungkook’s hands remain on your waist, his touch scrambling all semblance of sanity. You aren’t sure how to answer without being honest.

Truthfully, you’re not okay.

An okay person wouldn’t break up with their boyfriend and then, six days later throw themselves in their path. An okay person wouldn’t be hiding their magic, they wouldn’t be lying to the person they love and most of all, wouldn’t continue to place that same person in danger.

Silent, you survey the aftermath of your outburst. Deep down, your magic itches in response to your panic. Seeping outward, it seeks to mold to the fear, but you manage to stop it. Something about the wall being gone makes your power less alien. No longer an unknown variable, but a constant.

“No,” you exhale. Steeling yourself, you take a step backwards. “No, Jungkook, I’m not okay. I… this is exactly why you should stay away from me. Bad things happen, and I can’t control them. I’m so sorry.”

Again, you brace yourself for his anger, but it never comes. Jungkook is unusually quiet, head cocked to one side. He sees right through you, a sensation unnerving enough that you drop your gaze.

“I should go,” you repeat, stepping around him. Reaching your washer, you hastily unload your soggy clothing. “I have to go.”

Jungkook says nothing, although you feel his gaze on the back of your head. Hefting your hamper, you slam the door shut, and turn. The water level at your ankles has dropped, no more than a centimeter remaining in the room.

Sirens wail in the distance, likely on their way to investigate. Your stomach lurches, recognizing the cost of your magic. As soon as possible, you should reach out to Seokjin. His company might be able to cover the damage if the laundromat can’t.

Nearing the exit, you look anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, unsure what else to say. “Really, I am.”

Again, he lets you move past. Water rushes out when you open the door, seeking the street, then the gutter. Hurrying past, you can’t shake the feeling something has changed.

Not only with you and Jungkook, but with you and your magic. Silent, you prod the place deep within from which your magic stems. You’re used to a wall, feeling closed off but now, it seems your mom was right.

Once shattered, the dam can’t be rebuilt.

A weightlessness accompanies this that you didn’t anticipate. Despite the terror of your outburst, there was a moment near the end when you stopped it. When you felt what was wrong and controlled your outburst of magic. You haven’t done that before.

The thought is followed by regret, remembering Jungkook. When you broke up, it was supposed to save him. Instead, you’ve only put him – and yourself – in greater danger. Maybe because you’ve continued to see him. Everything would be fine if you moved or kept your distance.

But then, another part of you wonders if you were wrong from the start. Maybe instead of providing distance, you should have come closer. Should have allowed Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to stay. After all, today, he experienced the worst of your powers, and he didn’t run. If anything, he moved closer.

Suddenly exhausted, you hail a cab. The driver grumbles at your wet clothes but allows you inside, and you tip him extra upon reaching your place. What you should do is find another laundromat and finish your load, but there’s an itch in your fingers you haven’t felt in some time.

Dropping your hamper at the door, you shutter yourself within the third bedroom. Not allowing yourself to second-guess, you sit down at your easel and pick up a brush.

For the first time in a long time, you allow the magic to flow. You paint.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part II, here.

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts au #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction

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bookyeom · 4 months

Text

pairing: mingyu x reader word count: 3k warnings: kissing, swearing, Mingyu being a simp

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary. (Also, this fic in particular references the iconic 1987 film Some Kind of Wonderful, but I think I explained it well enough for someone who may not have seen it! However, if you haven’t seen it… Watch it. In my opinion, it tops all of those “must-see” movies like Sixteen Candles, etc. I adore this movie. The OG friends-to-lovers.)

nothin’ on you by b.o.b., bruno mars

they might say hi and i might say hey but you shouldn’t worry about what they say ’cause they’ve got nothing on you, babe

You groan as the doorbell rings, your eyes finding the time on your phone. You’d just settled in with your bunny pajamas and your rattiest, biggest, comfiest sweater, and you really don't want to move now. What you want is to disappear into the couch that you’d spent way too much money on, under your favourite blanket, and mindlessly scroll through social media videos of cats for hours while pretending you aren't perpetually single on the holiday of love.

As much as you try to ignore it, the ringing only becomes more persistent, mixed with obnoxious, intermittent knocking. You groan again and stand up, making your way over to the door in annoyance. There are only a handful of people who would dare to be so irritating — Soonyoung if he wanted food, Chan if he wanted to show you a new dance routine, or…

“Mingyu?”

“Hi,” he says brightly, and your brain short circuits. He looks as wonderful as always, black hoodie and sweats, eyes warm as he waits for you to reply like a normal human.

You know that the right answer would be a greeting in response, but all you can think to say instead is, “It’s Valentine’s Day?” When Mingyu’s face falls a little bit, you hurry to explain yourself. “I mean… Do you not have plans?”

Admittedly, that response isn’t much better, but you genuinely don't know the answer to your own question. You had just assumed that he did have plans — you hadn’t even considered the possibility of him being alone today, honestly. You hadn’t really wanted to think too much about it. It wasn’t like it’d be hard for funny, kind, Adonis-among-men Mingyu to find a date. All he had to do was smile at any man or woman in his general vicinity and they’d be under his spell.

You know first hand what that feels like.

Your best friend showing up at your door on February 14th has replayed a thousand times in your brain. You’ve been head over heels in love with him for years now. The fantasy usually consists more of him in a tuxedo holding a huge bouquet of roses, proclaiming his love for you before kissing you passionately, but you can’t deny that you like this casual, tuxedo-less Mingyu just as much — if not more. He’s just… Mingyu. Soft and warm in that hoodie that you love, holding a box of your favourite pizza in one hand, a bag of who knows what else in the other.

“Do you not want me here?” He pouts, and you cave.

You sigh, but a smile makes its way to your face regardless. “Of course I do, Gyu. I just thought you had plans, that’s all.”

“I do,” he counters. “With you.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words, ignore the soft smile he sends your way when you move aside to let him in. “Alright, then… Let’s be single as hell on Valentine’s Day, together.”

Mingyu beams, stepping past you and into the apartment.

“Movie?” He suggests as he slips off his shoes and immediately makes his way to the kitchen with the pizza. You hear the sound of cupboards opening and closing as he makes his way around with ease, like he knows where everything is like the back of his hand. Because he does. Your heart stutters a bit in your chest at the reminder of how well he fits into your life, how well he knows your apartment.

He knows you pretty well, too, which is actually a big part of the reason you’re so surprised that he’d shown up today.

Because anyone who knows you knows that you’re in love with Kim Mingyu. Even new people who spend just five minutes with the two of you can tell, and you’re basically a pro at dismissing the couple questions by now. It seems the entire world can tell you’re head over heels except for the man himself, and you really don’t understand how he seems to have absolutely no clue. If he did, you don’t think he’d be so cruel as to suggest spending Valentine’s Day together.

And yet here he is, moving around your house like it’s his house, too.

He has no idea, you remind yourself. He’s just alone on Valentine’s Day, and he likes spending time with you. That’s all.

You busy yourself setting up in the living room, making room on your side table for the pizza and whatever else he’d brought. You catch sight of yourself in the reflection of the TV and grimace. Theoretically, you’re both dressed casually, so you shouldn’t feel underdressed for this impromptu hangout. But in reality, Mingyu looks better than everyone else all the time, no matter what he’s wearing. He reappears a few moments later looking every bit the part of an athleisure model with the pizza box, a bottle of wine, and a box of your favourite chocolates in hand.

“A heart-shaped box of Lindt?” You can’t help but blurt out. It isn’t unlike Mingyu to bring your favourite snacks to movie night, but it’s Valentine’s Day, and the chocolates are in a heart-shaped box.

“It was on sale,” he shrugs in response, settling down on the couch, and you want so badly to question the peculiar choice further. You don’t.

You hand him the remote, grabbing the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor at your abrupt departure from the couch while he puts a movie on. He seems to know exactly what he’s looking for, which is interesting considering he’s one of the most indecisive people you’ve ever met.

“What are we watching?” You ask. “Action? Thriller?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, his other arm already outstretched for you to fall back against. You settle in next to him, pulling your knees up and draping the blanket over the both of you.

“I thought we could do something a bit different tonight,” he finally answers after a pause, and you look up at him in surprise.

“Like what?”

He simply nods his chin towards the TV, where the opening scenes of the movie he’s chosen are beginning to play. You recognize the title immediately: Some Kind of Wonderful.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

You’re not sure what to make of this. You’ve never seen the movie, but you know the premise of it: two best friends falling in love. This has to be a joke. You can’t help it as your entire body stiffens, and you tell yourself to relax.

You can’t.

“Why?” You finally blurt out. Your chest feels tight. You don’t know if you’re reading far too much into it, but when have you ever watched a romance movie together? You’ve expressly made sure that you didn’t.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Mingyu replies. “Thought it would be nice.”

You’re looking at him again, eyebrows knit together in confusion. He finally acknowledges you with raised eyebrows of his own, meeting your eyes briefly before motioning to the TV with his chin.

“Can you just watch it? It’s a good movie, I promise. Give it a chance.”

You nod slowly, doing as he asks, but you can barely focus for the next hour. Everything has been so strange; the movie choice, the way he’d shown up with wine and chocolate — all of which could have been excused, maybe, if it wasn't for the fact that Mingyu is acting strange, too. He’s normally so pliant against you during movie nights, so clingy. But tonight, despite your closeness on the couch, all he does is rest his arm loosely around your shoulders. No fingers tracing your skin, no pulling you against his side, no getting distracted by your hair and attempting to make a shitty braid with it. No maneuvering his own body so that he’s the one with his head in your lap. It feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s waiting for something.

What in the world is going on?

It’s excruciating, but you try to focus. You’re almost there when the ending scene begins to play, but your whole body is still tense. You watch as the main characters, Keith and Watts, finally kiss in the middle of the street, and you think you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You swear Mingyu has tensed up beside you, but you don’t take your eyes off of the screen as Keith finally speaks his confession.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, you’re stupid,” comes the words from Watts, and you suddenly feel tears pricking at the back of your eyelids. This all feels a little too real. Why did he put this on? What the fuck is Mingyu playing at?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” At Keith’s last words of dialogue from the screen, you feel Mingyu’s grip on your shoulder tighten.

“You never asked,” Watts replies, teasing, and you can’t take it anymore. You turn to your best friend, eyes wide, and he slowly moves to turn off the TV.

The atmosphere in the room has shifted dramatically, and you can’t look away from him, frozen. You can’t utter a single word. He’s picking at a piece of thread on his sweatpants, eyes downcast as he avoids your gaze.

It hits you like a brick, the reason why he’s being so strange. It’s because he’s nervous.

There’s no way.

A million thoughts race through your mind, a million reasons why going down this road could be a bad idea. But you have to ask — you have to know.

“Why didn’t you have plans tonight, Gyu?”

He meets your eyes again, and you can barely breathe. His gaze holds firm, intense, as he says, “Because I wanted to have plans with you.”

“On Valentine’s Day?” The insinuation of your words is clear, and you know that Mingyu understands exactly what you’re asking.

His eyes remain steady on yours as he replies, easily, “Yes.”

So simple. Certain. Sure.

You remind yourself to breathe, gathering all the courage that’s left in you to speak again. “‘Why didn’t you tell me?’”

You watch Mingyu’s face as you repeat the words from the movie, your voice trembling just the slightest bit. He’s really looking at you now, a soft smile on his face at your words, and your heart leaps into your throat. He’s stunning. He’s always stunning, but the way he’s looking at you right now has you feeling like you’re walking on air. His gaze is so warm, and you don’t want to look away from him ever again.

“‘You never asked.’”

“Neither did you.” Your words are your own now, and Mingyu nods, using the arm around your shoulders to pull you in against his chest. You flush as he draws you towards him, and you briefly wonder if you’re dreaming.

“You’re right.” He gazes down at you fondly, and your hand lifts tentatively to his jaw. He nuzzles into your fingers, turning to gently kiss your palm, and your eyes don’t leave his mouth. His free hand lifts to rest on top of yours, before he softly runs his fingers down your arm and up to your shoulder, your neck, your face.

��‘I knew you were stupid’,” you quote cheekily from the movie script again. Mingyu’s lips break into a wide smile as he lets out a surprised laugh, canines on full display as he beams.

Then he’s using his whole body to pull you into him, silencing your own giggles with a kiss.

Your breath is caught in pleasant surprise, and you can feel him smiling against your mouth. You’re impressed with how quickly you’re able to respond after your brain factory resets, the feeling of his lips on yours stunning you for only a moment before you react. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging softly and earning a pleased hum from him. His teeth gently sink into your lower lip in retaliation, and you can feel your entire body react to it. His hands find your hips, helping move you so that you’re in his lap. All you can feel is him as he pulls you in closer and closer, kissing you like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. He finally breaks away to kiss along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, before moving to slowly press one final kiss at the base of your throat, and you can feel goosebumps spread across your skin at the featherlight touch.

“I love you,” he whispers softly, and you lower your chin to meet his eyes. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s broken out at his words, and you feel a bit like you’re soaring as he continues, “I’m in love with you. I really am, and I need you to know that.” His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, his fingers gently massaging the skin there, and your forehead falls to his.

“Mingyu…”

He hums, and you pull back to look at him, your fingers moving to softly trace every part of his face. You’ve long since committed him to memory, but one more time can’t hurt. He waits for a moment before he lets out a whine, burying his face into your collarbone.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

You let out a giggle. “Why?”

“Because I’m shy.”

You let out a snort, and Mingyu pulls away to pout up at you. Your fingers gently brush over his lips, his nose, his cheeks, and you can tell he wants to hide again, but he doesn’t.

“I love you too,” you say softly, and his pout is gone. “I have for a really long time now.”

He surges forward to press another kiss to your mouth, and you can’t help but gasp into it. You can tell he’s satisfied with himself as he smiles, pulling back just to say, “Guess we’re both stupid then, huh?”

You laugh, and you can almost feel the happiness radiating off of him as his arms fold around your back, pulling you back in and resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, your head softly falling to rest atop his.

“Oh my god,” you hear him mumble after a few moments of silence. You hum in question, and he moves to look up at you again. “I’m so excited to date you,” he says, his face full of genuine joy. You can feel yourself flush crimson as he continues, “I’m going to date you so hard. You can’t stop me. I’m going to hold your hand all the damn time, you have no idea.”

“I can’t fucking wait, boyfriend.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the fifth of our Thirteen Valentines just in time for the holiday/Carat Day! Who better to celebrate with than Kim Mingyu himself? Special shoutout and dedication to the best girl @tae-bebe, who fell victim to the Mingyu enemies-to-lovers trope irl :) xx

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, I’m sorry!)

#Mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu imagine #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #My writing #thirteenvalentines #kmgfic

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de4dlyniightshade · 5 months

Note

I’d really just like to request your most feral Spencer Reid headcanons. SFW, NSFW, raunchy, tame - whatever. Just your like “I will fight anyone who disagrees, they are fact” type headcanons.

(Because I reread all your headcanons and love every single one)

I BEEN WAITING ON SOMEONE ASKING THIS! i've also just been meaning to make a hc post.

i was gonna split them into nsfw and sfw but they just ended up all mixed together 0-0

submissive and breedable spencer truther til i fucking die i'll get him pregnant don't play with me.

loves messy kisses like spit running down his chin, tongues down each others throat, desperately gripping at each other type of kisses.

maybe just me projecting and taking what mgg said as gospel truth but i fully believe that spencer loves a curvy woman, not even just for sexual reasons he also loves to rest his head on a nice big pair of boobs or thighs.

speaking of, boob guy! shamefully, but still a boob guy! adores groping your boobs whenever he can and would have your boob in his mouth 24/7 if he could, has literally fallen asleep with his head under your shirt and your nipple in his mouth.

munch! like the biggest munch ever, loves nothing more than coming home from a long day and burying his face between your thighs or having you ride his face.

knows full well that toys are his teammate and not his competitors and has no insecurities about you using toys on yourself or owning any.

does not care how well groomed you are, if you asked him what he preferred he'd be like??? it's literally none of my business???

needs lots of reassurance during sex, he just likes to know that he's doing good and making you feel good throughout the whole thing.

doesn't like talking about his sex life, especially with derek, no matter how hard he pressed and pries spencer wont let anything but the bare minimum out.

i imagine he's more drawn to a commanding woman, someone who will take the lead and teach him because of his inexperience and finds that he actually loves being dominated and hardly has any desire to dominate you.

really vocal! even though i've already said it like twice he just is, i can feel it in my bones, he's just such a whiny little baby and can't help but moan loudly any time you're touching him.

is completely against the idea of road head until you do it while you're on a long drive and it both changes his life and almost ends it bcs he swerved into the other lane which was luckily empty.

still gets shy when you kiss him in front even the team even years down the line.

learns to cook so he can make you breakfast whenever you're staying at his apartment.

on the same lines, lovesss morning sex, just that feeling of not wanting to get out your warm bed into the cold air, savouring the warmth in the best way possible.

had no idea what queefing was real until it happened and he was like genuinely so fascinated rather than disgusted.

i feel like spencer would own a bird for sure, not just bcs of gideon but he did help him realise how cool birds are which made him get one, probably a cockatiel or parrotlet with some silly name like dave.

all bark, no bite. likes to act a big game in front of others but the second you're alone he's begging and calling you mommy.

loves nothing more than waking up before you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before carefully and quietly getting out of bed to make you breakfast with the intention of bringing it to you but when you wake up before him and sneak up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist he can't help but melt.

very open to experimenting further down the line, anything you want to try he'll try at least once, except for blindfolds on himself, would be completely open to blindfolding you though.

loves public touching, not outright sex but he'd love when you subtly brush your hand over his crotch or take a handful of his ass in a public place.

teaches you how to knit and cries when you actually make him something like a sweater or even just a hat bcs he realises that's why you wanted to learn in the first place.

can't ride a bike.(this is definitely me projecting bcs i can't but i just feel like he can't okay)

lana enjoyer!!! especially if you are, he just wants to understand all the things you love and if you love lana so does he, he'd love to hear you ramble about your favourite songs and would take note of them and listen to them asap and tell you he loves them even if he didn't like some that much bcs he loves how happy it makes you.

wouldn't want to introduce you to his mother too soon but if you ended up meeting her by chance he'd be sweating buckets in case you didn't get along but you two just bond over your adoration for him and he's just so happy about it.

probably took a while to warm up to physical touch in the beginning bcs of his germophobia but when he finally does he regrets not doing it sooner.

washes his hands every single time before touching you sexually, not even for his benefit, he just wants to be as safe as possible with you.

loves elvis and almost proposes on the spot when you offer to dance with him to can't help falling in love, secretly sheds a few tears while you waltz around his apartment in your pyjamas.

okay i've definitely left stuff out that i've thought of but this is long asf so i'll leave it there😭

#💌 headcanon segment!!!∩^ω^∩#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #mgg #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic

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fairestwriting · 3 months

Note

I saw and loved your piece about an S/O that's like a heater. What about the absolute opposite? I'm always kinda cold. Would love to be warmed up by Jack :) thank you ever so much!

Ace Trappola

Knowing how easily you get cold, Ace is ready to be a little bastard and put his cold hands on your neck first chance he gets. What he didn't know, though, was that even your neck already felt like an icicle in this weather, maybe even colder than his hands?

Despite his occasional little bastard-ing about it, he thinks it's sort of endearing. He tries to play it cool most of the time, to be the suave boyfriend who lends you his jacket when you're cold. This fails pretty miserably because he starts freezing his ass off, but you can tell he cares.

You can get your revenge for his little prank (which he will repeat, because even if it doesn't startle you a lot, it still startles you) by making he experience how chilly you feel whenever you cuddle up to him. He'll get startled and complain about it all dramatic, but you can sense that he feels sort of proud that he's warming you up now.

Deuce Spade

Takes every opportunity to fuss over you, gets all worried if he doesn't see you wearing a jacket. Like Ace, he'll lend you his without hesitation, except he manages to be "cooler" about it since he doesn't get cold as easily. He's still all worried about you, though.

He's easily flustered by touch no matter the circumstance, but he's also dead set on keeping you warm. Initiates hugs a lot more, the possible excuse of "not wanting you to catch a cold" makes him a little bolder. It's hard for anyone to pry you off each other.

He probably has things like scarves and sweaters his mother knitted for him that don't fit anymore, and if they fit you, he's downright overjoyed to hand them over. Some of them look a little silly in the way that homemade knit clothing usually does, but it's kind of impossible to refuse him. He loves them, and he loves seeing you on them.

Jack Howl

Yeah, he is the ideal boyfriend for this scenario. Having lived in a cold place for most of his life, he does know a lot about how to stay warm!

...Which means, he knows when he doesn't have to be cuddling you for you not to freeze, but one time or another, he'll use it as an excuse to stay glued to you for a bit, saying it's the best you can do now to stave off the cold. He blushes while he mumbles out his very clear lie.

Even harder to pry him off you than it is with Deuce. Whether it's summer or winter. You know, he is way warmer than a human, so when it's hot, it's his turn to cool down on you. It's the perfect excuse to get all that PDA he's usually too shy to go for.

Epel Felmier

Out of the three who would try to play the "cool boyfriend giving you his jacket when you're cold" trope, Epel is the one who actually pulls it off perfectly. He does get worried, of course, but he's not nearly as fussy as Deuce, and he's pretty tolerant to cold. Maybe a little too much. You two will be an interesting sight during winter, when he's walking around wearing a scarf and gloves at most, and you're all bundled up.

If you like hot apple cider, or apple pie, or anything warm that involves apples, you're getting an endless supply of it. Some from leftovers he gets after visiting his family on werkends, and some made by his own hand.

(He's a little embarrassed to admit he made them, though, because while they're good, aesthetics really aren't his forte. But he's trying his best.)

Sebek Zigvolt

Still runs considerably colder than you, but it still spooks him. You're not fae cold, sure, but still? Is that really normal for a human? He expects answers.

Winter is... not very kind to either of you, needless to say. It's not that he gets cold in the traditional way, but it does a number on his energy. Even then, he'll still spare some to scold you if he thinks you're underdressed.

...Sometimes Sebek exaggerates a little. It's honestly just because he doesn't know a lot about how warmth works for the human body. But giving you a second pair of earmuffs when you already have one on is still one of his ways of showing that he cares about you.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #sebek zigvolt #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #lis writing

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entitled-fangirl · 5 months

Text

I see how you look at her, William.

Hannibal x wife!reader; Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Summary: Will is introduced to Hannibal's wife. The three seem to hit it off a little too well.

Words: 1,587

Warnings: idk, poligamy? Mutual pining should be its own warning, cause it always pulls at my heartstrings. And typos. Always.

Author's note: I literally pulled his GIF up, giggled, and said "Ehehehehe. He's so silly."

Masterlist

I don't own the rights to these characters!

.............................................................................

She descends down the stairs of the house, rounding the corner to the kitchen. She stands in the doorframe, watching her husband do what he does best- cook.

He stands at the counter, focused on the cut of meat he had in front of him. She took this moment to admire him. His strong back, his shoulders moving with each movement of the knife, his biceps flexing. Although all traits were hidden from her view by the dress shirt he wore, she could still imagine it just fine. His sleeves pushed up his forearm always seemed to catch her eye, like it did now. Her eyes wander to his greying hair, imagining running her hands though it. He seemed to feel her gaze, because he turned his head just slightly. Not to look at her, but just to see her see him acknowledge her presence. His voice carried through the kitchen, “I don’t need to turn around to know that you look beautiful tonight.”

She let out a soft giggle, pushing herself further into the kitchen. “And why is that?”

He stopped his movements momentarily, his eyes moving up the wall slightly. “Because you’re always beautiful,” he says before going back to his knife and cutting board.

It had been Hannibal’s idea in the beginning, inviting Will Graham over for dinner. He loved hosting dinners, but having dinner with only one guest was an unusual thing. And he had yet to meet Y/N.

Hannibal had kept Y/N a secret for many years, only revealing her to those attending his dinners. And sometimes, not even then. He knew what he did was dangerous, and he wished to keep her hidden from the public as much as possible. And she never minded, for she often felt anxious at big events and meeting too many new people at once overstimulated her. And above all else, Hannibal didn’t like to share things that were his. Especially things as kind as her, where the world could ruin her in a day. No, she was his, and they were a perfect pair, the two of them, for his arms were her favorite place to be. And his arms were also his favorite place for her to be.

He places the meat into the pan before finally turning around to look at her. He froze, a pleasant smile crossing his face, “Ah, bella. I knew I wouldn’t even have to look.”

She does a quick spin, letting him see all the aspects of her dress. She grows nervous under his gaze, “is this alright?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, “Darling, it’s perfect.” He takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them before leaning down, his arms open on either side of her to avoid touching her dress with dirty hands. She meets him halfway, sharing a soft kiss.

He smiles, moving back to the food at hand. She takes this as a cue to prepare the dining table.

Before she even finishes, a knock is heard at the door. She quickly walks to it, taking a deep breath before opening it. The sight in front of her is even better than she thought.

Will Graham stood at the threshold of their house in a dress shirt and sweater vest, his hair gelled to perfection. He held a nervous smile about him. His eyes trail up to hers, and his smile drops. He takes a deep breath of his own, before he places the smile back on. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes, reaching a hand out, “I’m Will Graham.”

God, he was handsome. Hannibal had said he was quite attractive, but this. Attractive was an understatement. Will Graham was beautiful.

She reaches her hand out to take his, “Y/N… uh… Y/N Lecter.”

She watched as the gears turned in Will’s head, his handshake slowing. “Lecter?”

Hannibal’s body appears behind Y/N, his hands moving up to rest on her hips. “Ah, Will. I see you’ve met my wife. Come in. Please.” He pulls Y/N’s body back slightly to make room for Will to enter. Will does so, letting his eyes wander around the house.

Y/N feels her husband's grip tightening around her waist. She knows him better than anyone. He’s not jealous, per se. No, this was something else entirely. Was he…. Nervous?

Will stuffs his hands in his pockets, as his gaze returns to the couple. “This house is gorgeous, truly.” He looks to Y/N, assuming she decorated it.

She smiles, pulling herself from Hannibal’s grip, “I didn’t do it, Hannibal did. He has an eye for things. Excellent taste.”

Will smiles back, fighting himself to not look at her for too long, “Yes. It seems he does.”

Hannibal shuts the door before moving towards the dining room. “Please, come sit. I’m almost done,” he says, giving a final glance to his wife before disappearing into the kitchen.

Y/N immediately moves to her usual spot, at the left side of the head chair. She pulls the chair out softly, sitting down in it before her gaze moves back to Will. He follows suit, sitting on the right side, directly across from her.

A silence ensues as both of Hannibal’s favorite anxious people look anywhere but each other. Finally, Will break the tension, “Hannibal never… mentioned you. I, I definitely didn’t know he was married, especially to someone so,” he stops himself.

She smiles, catching his eyes, “someone so… what, Mr. Graham?”

Will looked away again, his breath caught in his throat. He lets out a cough before smiling. “I guess.. I guess I was going to say beautiful.”

She tilts her head at him, “You guess? So, why didn’t you?” She liked watching his squirm. Perhaps she picked that trait up from so many years with Hannibal.

This caught him off guard. She was rather blunt in her thoughts. “I just, I don’t know, assumed it inappropriate to say too much of another man’s wife, is all, Mrs. Lecter,” he says, taking a sip of the water in front of him.

She nods, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Hannibal is aware of what he has. As am I. He taught me to never refuse a compliment.”

He nods as well, “Then, you look very beautiful, Mrs. Lecter.”

“Y/N,” Hannibal’s voice was heard from the kitchen. He usually didn’t call out like that. He never raised his voice. She stood quickly, moving towards the kitchen.

Hannibal stood in the kitchen, the plates neatly prepared before him. He glances up at her entrance. “Ah. Sorry for the harsh tone. It shouldn’t have come out that way.”

She nods, “you didn’t intend for it to be so.”

He sighs, “Yes. That’s true. I just…. It’s hard to see someone admire what is mine.”

She nods again, “I understand.”

“I wasn’t only talking about him admiring you,” Hannibal stated, “you seemed to like him just the same.”

She scoffs, “As if you don’t like him yourself, Lecter.”

Hannibal’s lips pull into a smile. He was caught. “I suppose you’re right, bella. As always.”

She gives him a knowing look, taking two of the plate carefully, one in each hand, and walks to the dining room. Will still sits at the large table, a nervous look in his eyes.

She sets a plate in front of him carefully, “Don’t ask me what it is, Graham. I’m not the cook.”

His lips now pull into a smile, as he nods, “I see. Thank you, anyways.”

She sets her plate down in front of her, sitting down gracefully. Hannibal walks in, setting his plate down. He's now in his full suit, his blazer neatly buttoned. “William, I hope this is to your liking.” He sits himself at the head of the table.

It’s a rather awkward dinner, as they all give each other obvious glances. Everyone at this table adored one another. Will and Y/N were the anxious ones, but as each conversation digressed, Hannibal’s grin only grew. He can read the two of them like an open book, and he was enjoying the book in front of him.

As they neared the end of their dinner, Y/N happily collected the plates and disappeared into the kitchen. Hannibal took this opportunity to his advantage. He leans towards Will, his voice low, “I see how you look at her, William.”

Will freezes, staring at the table. “I don’t believe my gaze is that different between her and you.”

Hannibal smirks, tilting his head, “No. I don’t believe it is too different.”

Y/N enters the room again, her hand gliding across Hannibal’s shoulders as she walks around his chair. She stops behind him, leaning over him to kiss his cheek gently. He smiles at this, reaching his own hand up, and grabbing her jaw quickly before she can move away. He twists his body slightly to kiss her on the lips. She pulls back in shock but doesn’t go far due to the grip on her jaw. He smiles into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of the stare from Will. He lets her go, letting her catch her breath. She moves back to her chair with a soft pink now on her cheeks.

Will lets out a deep breath, calming himself. Hannibal knows it, and he smiles at his darling wife.

“Should we invite William over again, mia bella?”

Her eyes glance over from her husband to Will, full of mischief.

“I think we should.”

............................................................................

Author's note (part 2): It's so easy to read a piece and critique it, but when it's your own.... golly. How can I go so easy on myself and yet so difficult to please???

#hannibal nbc x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader x will graham #Hannibal lecter x reader x Will graham

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Three for One 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: The ho-lidays are the daddies and the baddies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You bob around to the tinkling of carols as they waft over the store. Unlike your coworkers, you enjoy the repetitive tunes. They are so fun and bright and help the time pass between customers and stocking. Not that there isn't more than enough to keep you busy.

In the rare moment where you aren't distracted, you let yourself browse the colourful lipsticks and shining perfume bottles all around. You don't have anyone to shop for, not even yourself. You have your dollar store glosses and discount nail polishes. You don't see the need to spend too much on those things. Or maybe you just prefer what you know. Simple and cheap.

Around lunchtime, traffic really picks up. Several customers ignore your approach and brush by you before you can entice them into buying some Chanel. You've already hit your sales targets but you never really think of numbers.

A woman stops you and asks for a very specific palette. You know just the one. You think it's cute, it looks like a cupcake, and while you adore the aesthetic, it isn't worth the price tag. It's just powder!

You show her where it is and Luanne comes over to take the reins. She's the makeup genius, her flawless contour is proof enough. You turn to float back to your zone and see a man watching you. You recognise him! Vaguely. You see a lot of people in a day.

"Good afternoon," you sing as you near him, "anything I can help you with?"

His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"

You smile as you try not to show your cluelessness, "I think..."

"I came in last week," he says.

You think, scrunching up your face as you tap your chin, "yes! You bought Liz Taylor for you mother."

"Mother-in-law," he corrects you, not unkindly.

"Yes, that's it," you jab your finger upwards, "you complimented my sweater."

"Yeah, that was me," He finally smiles, "anyway, I was thinking of getting a gift for my wife. Just a little stocking stuffer."

"Oh, that sounds so cute," you nearly squee. You get so excited to help people shop for a loved one. At the same time, you feel that void. Maybe one day you'll have a husband thinking of you. "We have some great gift sets, actually. They come with different scents so you're wife can figure out which one she likes best." You direct him over to a shelf, "oh, and if she has a favourite, you can get her a full bottle for Valentine's!"

He gives you a look. His eyes narrow just a bit and his cheeks round, "that's a good idea."

He glances over the shelf and you wait patiently. He turns back to you, his eyes flitting over your name tag as he reads it out, "do you have a suggestion?"

"Me?" You perk up, "well, I actually like the Coach. It's not too expensive and it's nice and subtle."

"Is that what you wear?" He asks.

"I don't... I use some cherry blossom body spray but I usually smell like the whole store by the end of the day," you shrug.

"Cherry blossom," he nods, "oh, by the way, I'm Andy."

He offers his hand in an overly formal way. You giggle but take it nonetheless. You don't really get that often.

"Sorry," he squeezes your hand firmly before letting go, "lawyer, habit."

"No, it's fine," you assure him, "I'm just a perfume salesman, is all."

"Well, you're really good at your job," he praises.

"How do you know?" You say.

"You're friendly and helpful. I have no complaints," he reaches past you and claims the Coach pack, "she's going to love this. I owe you."

"No problem. Do you need me to ring you up?"

"Actually," he sighs, "she has this idea. Christmas card. I'm supposed to find a sweater. So, I need to look around some more."

"Oh, that's so cool. A Christmas card? The sweaters are just over in the men's, right near the east entrance," you point, "they have some really cute Charlie Brown ones."

"Charlie Brown," he repeats.

"Anyway, I'll let you go," you clutch your hands together, "I hope your wife likes the perfume."

"I'm sure she will," he agrees, hesitantly clapping the kit between his hands, "uh, thanks. Again." He leans back on his heel, "oh and, that's a really nice colour on you."

"Uh," you look down at your gem green blouse, "thank you, sir."

"Andy," he insists, walking backwards, "again, you're a life saver."

You grin proudly and he spins on his heel, nearly knocking into Luanne as she comes over. He apologises as he side steps her and continues on. She gives you a strange look.

"Geez," she grumbles, "people. This time of year makes everyone so crazy."

"Well, he was nice," you say.

"Kinda cute, too," she intones.

"He was shopping for his wife."

"Lucky lady," she scoffs, "so, you wanna go on lunch first? I'm dying for a latte."

"You can go, I don't mind," you say, "I'm not very hungry."

"Deal," she winks, "I'll get you a hot chocolate for your trouble."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't have to, I want to, sweetie," she preens.

"Fine, fine, I accept your coerced hot chocolate.”

🎀

Another day close to complete. It's like checking off items on a list. Each evening seems to darken sooner than the last, every morning rising too soon.

You yawn at the empty fragrance section as it’s only you left for the last hour. There isn't much to do except balance the till. Your headset keeps you entertained as electronics calls out possible shrink and home goods argue about their numbers.

“We need a body at returns,” Lucille cuts through the chatter. “Now.”

No answer comes and you slowly slide your hand up the wire. Before you can hit the button, your name is snarled from the other end. You're ordered up to cash to assist with the hordes.

You leave the ghost town that is beauty and as good as skip up to the front. You calm your step as you see Lucille sneering at you from behind a machine. You give a tiny smile and claim the extra screen behind returns.

“I can help the next person,” you call and wave your hand in the air.

You stand back and wait for your first customer. A man comes up and throws a torn open package on the counter, the item bouncing out of the plastic. You flinch and barely catch it before it can slide off the other edge.

“Hello, sir,” you bat your lashes, “how are you today?”

“Not fucking well,” the man snarls. His mustache tickles your memory; do you know him? “It’s a piece of shit.”

“Oh, okay,” you look down at the trimmer and examine it, “you’d like to do a return?”

“Yes, I’d like to do a return,” he snaps, “are you dim?”

“Of course, sir,” you punch in your ID and passcode, “I’ll just get you going. Do you have your receipt?”

“A receipt? I bought the damn thing here, look it up.”

“Ah, alright, when did you buy it?”

“You don’t remember, little trigger finger,” he sneers.

“What do you mean?”

“Pfft, right, you think spraying people with skunk spray is fun?”

“Um, no?” Your cheeks tremor as you withhold a frown; you think you know him now as you’re hit by a sudden wave of Gucci cologne, the scent of a memory. “Did you have the card you purchased this with?”

“You don’t think I have money?”

Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You don’t know what to say that won’t agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.

He flicks a black card onto the counter, “put it back on this.”

You nod and take the card, examining the nameless front. You turn it over and swipe it in the machine instead to search the number. He scoffs, “bet you never seen one of those up close.”

“Sir,” you smile bigger, letting the insult ping off of you. All the money in the world and he has no manners.

You find the purchase with the same sku and put his card back on the counter. He snatches it up as you start the return. You scan the barcode and continue on to the next screen, “what’s your name, sir?”

“Lloyd,” he answers curtly. You type, waiting, then look up at him, “Hansen.” He finishes sharply, “with an E, got it?”

“Yes, sir, and the reason for return?”

He rolls his eyes, “it doesn’t fucking work.”

“Alright. So it doesn’t cut the hair or–”

“It won’t turn on,” he growls.

“Right,” you take the trimmer and turn it over. It looks fine enough, even after he threw it. You slip the door of the battery compartment off. It’s empty, “and you had double As in it?”

“Double As?” He repeats.

“It needs batteries, sir.”

He pauses, eyes flaring, nostrils flaring.

“You think I’m stupid? That I don’t fucking know that? You’re not getting free fucking batteries from me.”

“Of course, sir, of course,” you rarely feel this addled, even this time of year, “I’ll get you your money back on a gift card–”

“Gift card? I want my money,” he holds up his card between two fingers.

“Yes, sir, I understand. As per our return policy, personal care items, once opened, are only eligible for a store credit return. Or you can exchange for another item. Would you like to look at our other trimmers? I can put this aside while–”

“What? How would I know that?” He hisses.

“It says on the receipt, sir.”

“I don’t have the goddamn receipt,” he barks.

“I know, sir, sorry. I can only refund this amount on a gift card. I can’t override the option.”

“I want a manager. NOW!” He demands as you jump in your shoes.

“I… I’ll see if she’s avail–”

Lucille has you jumping even more as she appears beside you, no doubt drawn by the raging man in front of you. She elbows you out of the way, not even acknowledging you as she puts on her mask. She leans on the counter just slightly.

“Sir, is there something I can help with? I’m the manager,” she says.

“I want my money,” he echoes once more. “I bought a defective product and I don’t want store credit. I drove out here twice for this bullshit.”

“Oh, certainly sir,” she brushes you with her hip, further edging you out, “right back on that black card, right?”

She scans her keycard, overriding the safeguard, and proceeds to the refund screen.

“Yes, exactly,” he snorts, “not like I don’t have even more money to spend here. Even if the customer service is lacking.”

You back away, unsure what to do. Do you just stand there for the transaction or do you go back to your department? You twiddle your fingers and bob on your heels.

Your eyes meet that man’s and he smirks smugly, wiggly his credit card at you. It’s fine, you won’t let him ruin your day. He’s already ruined his own getting so worked up.

🎀

It’s another busy shift. Your hot chocolate has gone cold from your neglect and you long to sneak away and shove it in the break room microwave. You can’t mourn the lukewarm drink as the line before you stretches on. You’re only a week from Christmas.

You finish wrapping the Prada bottle and hand it over the iron-haired woman with her cute curls. You wish her a good day as she waddles off. The next customer comes up, slamming down a cup so hard, the foam of the drink spits through the slot in the lid.

“Hello, sir,” you croon, “how are you today?”

“Here for a pickup,” he ignores your question.

“Right, can I get a name?”

“Why?” He challenges.

“For… for the package,” you sputter.

“Oh, uh, Drysdale,” he sniffs.

“I saw that earlier. I’m the one who called,” you brighten up.

“So you’re the annoying songbird,” he grabs his drink again, “took you fucking long enough. Line’s a mile long.”

“It’s very busy, yes. Everyone’s catching up on their Christmas shopping,” you bounce, “are you almost done yours?”

“Yeah, I bought myself cologne. So, chop chop, sweetheart.”

You nod and quickly spin. People get so impatient. You go into the small back room housed behind the shelves of lockup and you search the shelves. Drysdale. You pluck up the box and hurry back out.

“Right here,” you announce, “I have good news, too.”

“Tell me you’re gonna stop yammering,” he snickers.

“Um, no, the uh… the cologne is currently on markdown so I can do a price match and give you your money back.”

“Why would you do that?” He asks.

“Er, because… it’s policy?”

“You think I can’t afford it?”

“N-no, I didn’t say–”

“Look, I don’t need some department store busy bee to judge me, got it? This scarf costs more than your whole wardrobe,” he touches the patterned scarf around his neck.

“It’s a very nice scarf,” you agree.

He narrows his eyes, “you’re mocking me.”

You shake your head, “no, sir, I like the colours–”

“Give my goddamn package," he reaches and rips the box out of your hands, “and a tip, shut up and do your job. Maybe then you won’t have half the city waiting to get their shit.”

“Thanks,” you swallow down his anger. “Have a great day, sir.”

He doesn’t reply as he takes his cologne and storms away. You watch him and notice his cup still beside your till. It’s too late to call him back. You’ll just put it aside, you’re sure he’ll come back for it.

You move it to the other end of the counter and face the next customer, “hello, how are you?”

“Good,” the blonde woman answers with a gentle smile, “some people…” she tuts, “don’t let the grinches get to you, honey.”

“Thanks,” you feel the ice melt away, “I won’t.”

“Adorable cardigan,” she adds, “I really love the collar.”

“Oh, thank you,” you trill, “is this everything for today?” You gesture to the bottle of Calvin Klein on the counter.

“That will be it. And I’d love to have it gift-wrapped, thank you, hon.”

478 notes · View notes

onlyjaeyun · 6 months

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟑𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

↬ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔.𝟏𝐤

↬ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐛𝐯𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐜/𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐃𝐃/𝐋𝐆 (𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝟎𝐦/𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬), 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 (𝟏) 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤, 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞

Ever since the day Jongseong had decided to add your number to his list of exceptions from his "do not disturb" mode, there's been this certain type of calmness in his chest, knowing he's always available for you.

And despite the fact the two of you had only talked to each other a few hours ago, he couldn't help but be surprised about seeing your name on the display of his phone; especially considering the fact it's way past midnight and you've never been one to stay up this late.

All of a sudden, a jolt of worry rushes through his veins and without missing another beat, he picks up the call.

"Yes, Ba–", and as your soft little cries interrupt him, said worry turns out to be justified.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

From the way none of your responses seem to make sense or are even coherent for the most part, Jay's whole body freezes from the panic of listening to you. Before he can even overthink his actions, he finds himself reaching for his sweater, pulling it over his head and reaching for his car keys in the same moment.

"Stay with me, Baby", he says as calmly as possible, knowing you need the best version of him right now, no matter how much he's internally losing his mind, "I'm on my way."

The young businessman doesn't say another word until he's firmly seated in the driver's seat of his car all while trying his best to calm you down.

But by the time he's on the highway, Jongseong knows he's lost you to a panic attack. Your sobs and breathing heavy to the point where the worry of your lungs actually hyperventilating overwhelms him. His words don't reach you, no matter what and how he says it.

Thousands of possible reasons start rushing around in his head and as he comes to stop at yet another red light, Jay subconsciously makes the decision to have you either move in with him or in one of the apartments in his own complex because there's absolutely no way he's going to let something like this happen ever again.

Knowing you're on the other side of the city, scared, overwhelmed and panicked, unable to handle it all by yourself is breaking his heart in the most painful way possible and the urge to break every single traffic rule suddenly becomes overwhelming.

Jongseong's very much aware that this probably isn't your first panic attack and at the end of the day you somehow would have dealt with it on your own, but you decided to call him because you need him and that's the only thing he cares about.

In all those months of knowing you, the way from his own to your apartment has never, ever felt this long; as if the whole world had collectively decided to test his patience and self control.

By the time he finally parks his car across from your apartment building, a whole eternity has already passed by and the only thing he can focus on is the sound of your little cries and sobs on the other side of the phone.

The boys from your block seem confused and a little surprised to see the young man at such time of the day but upon meeting his worried gaze, none of them dare to say a single word but rather do whatever it takes to get him to you even faster. Seyeon is quick to read Jay as he reaches for his keys and immediately unlocks the front door, nothing but a nod of gratitude being exchanged once he walks into the hallways.

Jongseong never once pulls his phone away from his ear as he basically runs up the stairs ro your apartment, not ready to waste any more time by waiting for the elevator.

His thoughts are racing at such high speed, it feels like their about to shoot out of his ears. Jay has never been this worried or stressed before; the lack of knowledge of the reason behind your panick attack pushing every single one of his buttons, even the ones he didn't even know existed.

"I'm here, Baby, open the door", Jongseong breathes heavily, his voice a little louder and stricter than usual as he hopes for his words to reach you through the sound of your own sobs.

And up until the moment you finally swing open the door, his heart is brutally crashing against his rib cage, just to skip a few beats when the sight of your tear stained face and shaking body hits him like a fist.

"Oh, Baby", is the first thing to leave his lips as he reaches for your body and before he can even pull you closer to his body, you bury your face into his chest and start crying even harder.

Jay wraps his arms around your fragile body without an ounce of hesitation, pulling you even closer against his own as he closes the door behind him and tries his best to calm you down with his words.

"It's okay, pretty girl. I'm here. You're safe", he whispers softly, his heart still hanmering against his rib cage and every single beat hurting his soul the more his brain processes what's actually happening.

Seeing his usually so happy and smiley girl in such a state of devastation feels surreal and if it wasn't for the pain in your little cries, he would have doubted this moment to be actual reality.

Every now and then, Jay gently pulls your face away from his chest to look at you, worried and concerned about your physical health and feeling the need to check if everything is intact.

He has absolutely no idea why you're crying as much as you are. He basically just dropped you off at home again about two hours ago where everything was perfectly fine.

By the time you slowly start calming down in his arms, Jongseong has already painted several thousand possible scenarios in his head and the more time passes without a word from you, the heavier his heart becomes.

And as he gently caresses your back, subconsciously regulating his breathing to give you something to follow, you can physically feel your body coming back to reality.

The blood stops rushing in your ear, your cries slowly dying as your heartbeat finally reaches its regular pace again. All of a sudden the world stops spinning and the heavy feeling of panic and anxiety on your chest slowly disappears.

With tired eyes you lift your head from the crook of Jay's neck to meet his gentle gaze and before you can even react, he takes your face into his big hands and starts nodding at you.

"You're doing so good, Baby", he whispers and pushes the hair out of your face, "breathe with me, yeah? Slowly, you've got this."

Without giving it much thought, mostly because you're way too mentally exhausted to overthink anything, you start imitating his breathing pattern. Inhaling deeply, followed by a short hold of breath and then a long exhale.

It doesn't take you longer than five minutes calm down completely, yet to Jongseong it feels like an eternity.

You let out a soft yet shaky sigh and press your cheek against his strong chest again, your whole body freezing from the cold air in your hallway.

"Let's go to my bedroom", you say, your voice hoarse and raspy from all the sobbing and as soon as those words leave your mouth, Jay finally manages to calm down himself.

He silently follows you through your apartment, a certain type of comfort surrounding him as he holds onto your hand and allows his eyes to graze your place the way he usually does when he comes over.

Jong doesn't know what it is about your home but there's never, ever been a place he's felt as comfortable and safe in as he does in your four walls. He knows you think he's exaggerating because of the size difference in your two apartments, but to him his own is nothing but a place to sleep, whereas yours is an actual home.

He simply can't wait for you to make a home out of his penthouse and finally give him what he's been craving ever since he moved in all those years ago.

With a soft smile of reassurance, you tell Jongseong to get comfortable on your bed as you're getting washed up to be a little more presentable, not even to him but rather to yourself.

Just as usual, he does as he's told and yet can't help but feel tense as you walk into your bathroom, your pretty body covered in nothing but a white little camisole, reminding him why you had asked to come into the warmth of your bedroom in the first place.

Up until the moment you walk through the door again, does he remain as tense and anxious, something so unusual for the young CEO. Growing up the way he did, Jong's simply never had time to lose himself in feelings like this, which is why they now seem so unfamiliar to him.

As you slowly approach him with unsure steps, you can't really tell what's going on in his head and for a moment worry overwhelms you. The first instinct to hit your messy brain after your brother's threatening texts was to call the one man you know would never harm you, yet you never once considered what your current emotional state might do to him.

"I'm sorry, Jongie", you whisper and reach for his face, loving the way he moves further into your touch before placing a row of soft kisses into your palm.

Different than you expect, Jongseong remains quiet. All he does is wrap his fingers around your delicate wrist and pull you closer to his body, silently moving you to straddle his lap before he lets out a soft sigh of relief.

Holding you in his arms like this feels like all the weight has been taken off of his shoulders and for the first time in the past hour, he feels like he can actually breathe.

"Don't be sorry, my pretty girl", he whispers into your ear and gives you a soft kiss on the temple, "I'm just glad you're okay now."

"But I scared you", you reply shyly and pull away from him, nervously playing with the little chain around his neck and intentionally avoiding his gaze, "and I worried you."

"Yes, Baby", Jongseong doesn't hold back with his response, the need to hear your voice too intense, "and yet you made me the proudest man ever. I know calling me wasn't easy. You did so well, pretty girl."

His words surprise you, to say the least. You tend to forget just how soft spoken and gentle Jongseong is compared to all the other men in your life. And as your brain slowly processes his soft words of affirmation and reassurance, you can't help but tear up again.

A very familiar haze starts taking over your brain and for a moment you feel like you're about to fall asleep just from those few words.

"Thank you, Jongie", you whisper and subconsciously bite your tongue to hold yourself back from calling him that tiny little title you've always been oh so hesitant with.

You know how forbidden and scandalous it is, how some people won't ever understand why one would find an inch of pleasure in such a word, yet to you it's always been nothing but comfort.

Yet the fear of scaring him away or even worse, disgust him with your choice of sexual comfort is way too consuming to even consider opening up such a topic any time soon.

Maybe in a few months when the two of you have surpassed a certain point, you'll find the courage to go up and talk to Jongseong about your deep desires. But for now you're more than just content keeping them to yourself if that means to satisfy him.

"Do you wanna tell me what this is about, Baby? Do you feel comfortable enough to do it?"

His voice is calm and soft, his embrace taking over every single one of your senses and as soon as Jongseong takes your face into his big hands, you feel yourself ready to do whatever he asks of you.

"My older b-brother texted me, he somehow got access to my number", you reply and feel the knot in your throat returning in an instant, "he threatened to hurt the men you've hired, as well as you and me and then he–", but your voice betrays you as it breaks at the end of your sentence.

Jongseong gently pulls you into a soft kiss, pressing his lips gently against yours yet not expecting your hungry reciprocation. With a soft sigh he allows you to lead the kiss, swallowing your little whines as he waits for you to calm down.

"Keep going now, Baby", Jongseong whispers against your lips, a sweet blush covering the apples of his cheeks as he looks at you with adoration gleaming in his pretty eyes, "you're almost there. I know you can do it."

You nod softly, pushing your hands into his hair and pressing yourself further against his chest to calm the racing of your heart, all while subconsciously ignoring the growing wet spot in the center of your panties.

It's just another day of your body betraying you by mistaking sexual arousal with genuine comfort and the feeling of security.

"He implied something about finding out where I live and that sent me into a panic attack because I know – I don't – what if he hurts me again, Jongie?"

The tears have yet again blurred your vision as you struggle to breathe and look up at the young business man with a quivering bottom lip.

Jongseong's reaction is quick, his big hand gently holding your face as he starts taking one deep breath after the other until your pattern matches his.

"That's my good girl", he whispers and gives you a soft kiss, "that was great, Baby. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you, Jay", you sigh and move further into his soft touch, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in your lower stomach from how much his gentleness is affecting you.

"How about you stay with me after the trip to Jeju and then we'll figure everything out once we're back, hm? If you don't want to stay with me for a longer time I'll make sure to hire two bodyguards of mine to watch over you through the day as well as have them stand in front of your door during the night."

His offer is exactly what you needed to hear and you can't believe how it instantly sends jolts of calmness through your body, easily suppressing the anxiety in your veins and with a soft smile you nod.

"Thank you for letting me help you, Baby", Jay sighs and places a soft kiss on your neck, his big hands firmly placed on your waist, "I'd do everything to keep you safe and protected. They won't ever hurt you again, my angel. Not as long as I am around."

Maybe it's the sound of his voice or his choice of words, maybe it's the genuineness nehind it all and maybe, just maybe it's because you've never felt as comfortable and safe with a man as you doneith Park Jongseong, yet regardless of the reason, you find yourself slowly turning off your brain and with a soft sigh, you bury your face in his neck and start squirming in his lap.

The urge to be as physically close to him as possible has already taken over every single one of your senses and at this point you're just tired of fighting against yourself.

"Easy there, angel girl", Jongseong suddenly grunts and digs his fingers deeper into your skin, the soft pain sending yet another jolt of arousal straight into your cunt.

"I don't have much self control when it comes to you, Baby, I don't wanna hurt your heart", he whispers and throws his head back when you suddenly start littering his neck in soft, open mouthed kisses. The feeling of your tongue licking over the little spots on his skin as well as the feeling of your warm, barely clothed cunt against his cock send his brain into overdrive and Jay knows he has to stop this or he'll lose his composure.

"Don't", you reply calmly, looking up at him with big, glassy eyes and your pretty lips pushed into the cutest little pout, "please, Da – Jongie, I want you so bad. Need you to make me forget again."

You're quick to save your little slip up, despite the heavy cloud surrounding your brain and as you allow yourself to roam his handsome face with hungry eyes, you realise he's way too gone to have noticed.

Jongseong on the other hand is convinced his brain is playing games with him. You didn't actually just almost call him by that fucking title he's been daydreaming about ever since the first day he's met you. It's just his stupid head and the pain urging from his now rock hard cock. There's absolutely no way.

"Look at me, Baby", he grunts softly, his big hand wrapping around your throat to make you follow his request, "I need you to tell me exactly what you want, yeah? Can you be a good girl and use your words for me again?"

You don't even think a single thought, just nodding in response to his sweet request.

"I wanna ride you, Jongie", you sigh as your hands find home in his thick hair, pulling on the dark strands gently and slowly grinding your hips against his, "I miss feeling you inside of me."

"F-Fuck", his response is instinctive, more of a reflex than anything else and with a deep grunt, Jongseong throws his head back to enjoy the feeling of pleasure filling his veins.

"That's my good girl", Jay growls deeply, lightheaded and slightly dizzy the more his body loses itself in the sweetness of your touch, "Daddy's perfect little angel."

It takes him a whole second to realise what the fuck had just slipped past his lips and with wide eyes Jay finds himself staring at the ceiling.

All of a sudden his heart starts hammering against his ribcage, anxiety and fear of your possible reaction to the sudden exposure to his most treasured and well hidden kink.

You two have talked about quite a few things but this never felt fitting enough to bring up ag any given point and for some reason, Jay can't help but be genuinely afraid.

His previous partners never enjoyed it the way he wanted them to. They usually only played along in bed because they knew he liked it and the fear of you doing the same has the knot in his throat double in its size.

"I'm so fucking sorry", he whispers and finally gets himself to look at you, yet skillfully avoiding your eyes.

He's not quite ready for a heartbreak of this sort, not when he literally just regained your trust.

"It won't ever happen again, Baby, I promise. Please just forget I said it. I'm so ashamed."

Yet again, a million possible scenarios start flooding his mind and not a single one preparing him for your actual reaction.

As you watch the young CEO obviously struggling internally, you can't help but feel relieved.

You've always hoped that he'd be into this as much as you are, especially after the first time the two of you had gotten intimate but for some reason it's so much better, more fulfilling than you could have ever imagined.

Similar to Jay's experiences, you've rather been hesitant about revealing this particular fantasy to your previous boyfriends, mostly because you know they either disliked it or even thought of it as weird and disgusting.

And the one who didn't really care about it usually never reciprocated your urges and just let you use the title for him, something you quickly pushed yourself to let go of to save your dignity and heart. Ever since that you had promised yourself to never, ever give this to someone unworthy again.

And now here you are.

In the arms of a man who got so lost in his pleasure and want for you, he actually slipped into the designated role without your initiation.

"No, please", you whisper, a thin veil of tears blurring your vision as you take his face into your shaky hands, your body actually overwhelmed by all the emotions, "I've dreamed about this for so long."

"It's okay, Baby, you don't have to play along if you don't like it. There's no need for you to indulge in it, I'll be–", but you don't give him the opportunity to finish his rejection, too consumed by him.

"Please, Daddy", your voice is small as you're too afraid of bursting into tears, "don't take this away from me again. I need it so bad."

"My Baby."

This time, Jongseong's voice is filled with relief, the excitement reaching his pretty eyes as he takes in the sight of his pretty girl on his lap; the sound of you referring to him the way he's been fantasising about for longer than he'd like to admit constantly replaying in his mind.

"Only yours", you say confidently and nudge his nose with yours before the tension finally becomes too much and you needily pull him into a deep kiss.

Despite having done it a fair amount of times, you don't think you'll ever get used to kissing Park Jongseong.

It's rhe way he allows you to lead the kiss all while maintaining the control. Each time your lips meet his, you feel your cunt clenching in despair and the wet spot in your panties doubling in its size with every second passing by.

Just as usual, it starts off slow and gentle, only for the hunger to overwhelm the both of you and before you can even realise it, you find yourself sucking his tongue into your mouth as you shamelessly grind your clothed cunt against the hard bulge in his sweats.

You quickly swallow all of his deep grunts and heavy moans, loving the way his taste consumes your senses and Jay doesn't seem afraid of letting you know just how good you're making him feel.

With a tiny ltitle whine you make your way to his chin all the way down to his neck just to cover his soft skin in open mouthed kisses. You know you can't leave your marks, he's a business man after all, yet you can't take it away from yourself to avoid the pretty little birthmark on the left side of his neck.

"There you go, that's Daddy's good girl", Jay grunts as soon as you suck the skin into your mouth and basically set his whole body on fire.

The hoodie he's wearing has never felt as suffocating as it does in this particular moment, but you're faster than he is.

You're eager and needy, too far gone to even notice the look of pride grazing his features when you reach for the hem of his hoodie and pulling it over his head along with his shirt.

Jongseong's usually not the type to let go of his control so easily but the way you simply take what you want because you know he'd give it to you anyway makes him want to become nothing but the realisations of your deepest fantasies.

With other women he'd feel the need to remain composed and collected but with each one of your needy kisses down his tattoo covered chest, Jay can tell how much you're enjoying his compliance.

The sudden worry about not being what you actually want however, remains in the back of his mind as he watches you climb down his lap and in between his spread legs to litter every ounce of skin in your sweet kisses.

"Baby", he grunts and chokes on his breath at the same time, the unexpected grip on his hard cock leaving him overwhelmed, "let Daddy take care of you, please. Be a good girl for me."

But his words fall on deaf ears. You've been dreaming and fantasising about pleasuring him for the past who knows how long and after allowing him to do as he's just said, you're degermined to finally give him back what he deserves.

"Angel girl, ple–", "Please, Daddy. I wanna make you feel good, too. Want to be what you deserve."

"Oh, Baby. You always make me feel so good. You take such good care of me, I'm so fucking lucky."

Just as usual, Jongseong's words instantly push you into the sweetest headspace you've ever been in and with a little pout, you press your cheek against his clothed thigh too look up at him, not knowing what that particular sight is doing to the young businessman.

"Go ahead, Baby", he sighs and caresses your cheek with his knuckles, "do whatever you want to me. Daddy's all yours. use me, my body, my cock, it all belongs to you. I belong to you, pretty girl."

You feel hypnotised by the way he speaks to you. Every word seems to carry a single emotion, yet all of them ooze nothing but affection and adoration, something you have never experienced in your life before.

Which is probably why you don't even manage to form a simple sentence, just greedily reaching for the babd of his sweats, only for Jay to stop you mid-movement.

"Good girls use their manners, Baby. You always respond to Daddy, okay?"

"Yes, Daddy."

The response easily slides off your tongue and the look of pride in Jongseong's pretty eyes leaves you lightheaded.

And within just a few seconds, you carelessly disregard Jay's sweats along with his boxers on your bedfoom floor, your whole focus remaining on his thick cock in your hands.

Different than he would have expected, you don't hesitate to wrap your pretty lips around his leaking tip, your tongue lapping up every drop of precum before you decided to pull away and lick your way from his shaft all the way up, easily eliciting a row of deep moans from your usually so composed boss.

"That's it, Baby, so f-fucking good." Of course Jay doesn't hold back with his praise as the feeling of your hot mouth around his throbbing cock sends dizzying jolts of pleasure through his whole body.

You're quick to take more than half of his length into your mouth, tryingy our best to get as much as possible, only for your gag reflex to stop you.

"It's okay, pretty girl", Jong reassures you upon noticing the way you've furrowed your brows in frustration, too adamant about taking the entirety of his impressize size down your throat, "we'll work on that some other time, yeah? You're doing ducking amazing for me, making me feel so good."

"Thank you, Daddy", you sigh and rub rhe tip of his cock against your saliva covered lips, spreading his precum all over them as you look up at him with those eyes.

Jay's never seen eyes as pretty as yours and if it wasn't for the way you're bavk to wrapping your lips around his cock, he would have spent another fifteen minutes just admiring how pretty they are.

"F-Fuck, Baby", the feeling of hitting the back of your tight throat has his toes curling in despair, "wanna come and sit on my cock now, hm? Am not gonna last much longer, I've missed you too much and your mouth is t-too good."

To hear a usually so confident and well spoken Park Jongseong stumbling over his words like a child is something you never knew you need up until this particular moment.

For a second, you don't even understand what he's saying, too focuse on the way he seems to feel to even stutter.

"Baby", this time his voice gives off more warning vibes and make you realise that you've been subconsciously sucking on the tip of his to gue while being stuck in awe about his mannerisms.

"Take those pretty panties off, leave the camisole on and sit on Daddy's cock. Wanna cum inside of that pretty little cunt."

"Mhm, yes", you reply hectically, standing on yojr knees in between his legs, only to stop in your tracks and correct yourself with wide eyes, "I mean – yes, Daddy."

"Good girl", Jay leans back with his lips stretching into one of his pretty smirks as he casually watches the way you clumsily pull your drenched panties down your thighs and then your legs.

"Show them to me", he suddenly demands, his big hand firmly placed on your naked thigh, gently groping the soft flesh, "I wanna see what a mess you've made of yourself just from sucking Daddy's cock."

"But – it's embarrassing", you whisper shyly and push his hand higher up your body, knowing he'll understand exactly what you want and as soon as Jay take sone of your sensitive tits into his big palm, you cock your head to the side and pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Come on, Baby, there's no need to be embarrassed. I carry great pride in what only I can do to you and that perfect pussy", he mumbles and yet again easily convinces you to just as you're told, so without missing another beat, you lift your panties up and show him the big, wet spot in the center of the soft fabric.

"Good girl. Now get on my lap, pretty girl and sit on my cock, show me how good you can take me."

And as you've come to realise in the past few weeks, you don't need to be told twice when it comes to Park Jongseong.

With your bottom lip firmly tugged between your teeth, you straddle his thighs and let out a loud whine at the feeling of his bare cock against your wet cunt, the sudden stimulation resulting in you almost instantly burying your face in his neck.

"You're so fucking wet, Baby", Jay geunts and guides your hips to move your oussy against the length of his sensitive cock.

"For you, Daddy", you whimper and suddenly lift your hips up right before pushing your hand in between your bodies to take hold of him, "only for you."

"That's my good girl. My perfect little angel, come on, guide me inside and look at me while you do it. Wanna see how good you look when you're taking my cock."

You're already following his instructions before he can finish speaking, his voice growing more and more hoarse as you rub the tip of his cock against the hot flesh of your wet cunt, only to line it up with your sensitive hole right after.

Not a single word is being exchanged from the moment you slowly start sinking down on his thick cock. The stretch this part comes with usually enough to drown the both of you in the rawest pleasure possible.

Your high pitched moans meet his deep grunts in the thick air of your bedroom and as he finally bottoms out, your reach behind him to hold onto the headboard of your bed, your knuckles turning white from your tight grip but there's no way you can stop yourself from cumming all over him if not for tensing all your muscles.

"Fuck", is the first coherent thing to fall pst Jay's swollen lips, "you're so fucking tight, Baby. It's like I didn't spend hours stretching you out before."

You try to move, yet are quickly humbled when a stingy pain shoots through your body and you know you have to wait another minute to adjust to his impressive size.

"It's because you're so big, Daddy", you whimper and look at him with big, glossy eyes.

"Yeah? Is it big, Baby? Too big for your tiny cunt, hm?", a hint of faux sympathy echoes in his deep voice and you can't help but whine in response to his slightly teasing tone.

You start nodding like you've lost every single word in your vocabulary,

It doesn't take you as long as you initially thought and by the time Jay throws his head back to let out one of the hottest moans you've ever heard, you've already figured out a rhythm which hits each and every single one of your sweet spots.

Of course Jongseong doesn't hold back with his dirty words, continually talks about how good you feel, you tight you are and how he's going to fill you up to the brim with his cum because food girls deserve just that.

You're nothing but a mess, not a single understandable word leaving your lips, just a row of needy whines and high pitched whimpers begging him to just please never stop.

You're so far gone, so lost in the sweet haze of your pleasure, you don't even notice the way Jay sneaks his hand between your bodies and casually starts rubbing firm circles into your hardened clit.

"Oh", you moan and look at him with big eyes when he suddenly meets the movements of your hips with his own thrusts, easily hitting that one particular spot inside of you until you can actually taste the sweetness of your high on the tip of your tongue.

"I can feel it", Jay chuckles and pushes his hand into your hair to geab a fistful of it, pulling your face closer to his, "you're going to cum for me, aren't you, Baby? Gonna make a mess of Daddy's cock like the good girl you are, isn't that right, my sweet angel?"

"Yes, Daddy", you whine and push your forehead against his, heavily breathing against his lips as your moans become louder by the second.

"Look at my pretty little girl, using her Daddy's cock like she owns it." You know he's teasing you, pushing you to the edge and playing with your patience, yet at this point there's no way for you to think the slightest bit rationally.

"Because I do", you say firmly, "it's mine. You belong to me."

"Fuck, yes", Jay lands a harsh spank on your sensitive ass, never once halting his hips from thrusting up into you, "claim me, Baby. I'm all yours. You fucking own me."

And it's those exact words of affirmation which finally push you over the edge and leave you absolutely breathless as you stumble head first into your much needed high.

As soon as your toght cunt starts tightening even more around his sensitive cock, Jongseong presses his lips against yours and quickly thrusts his cock all the way into you, making sure to graze the entrance of your womb with his tip just so he can fill you up with every single drop of his cum.

Heavy breathing, a mixture of his grunts and your moans as well as the thick scent of sex fills the space of your bedroom while the two of you try to calm yourselves down and if there's one thing as satisfying as the act kn itself to you, it's the aftermath.

"So fucking good", Jongseong sighs and wraps his arms around your shoulders, "you fucked me so well, Baby. Daddy's so proud of you."

For some reason those heartfelt words hit you a lot harder than you expected and with gesry eyes you lift your head from his neck to meet his tired gaze.

"Thank you, Daddy", you whisper against his lips and love the way Jay doesn't hesitate to kiss you.

"Let's calm down and then I'm gonna pamper you like a good girl deserves, yeah? Gonna let Daddy take over mow, hm? Is that okay, angel girl?"

Who in their right mind would ever reject such a sweet request?

And just as usual, Jongseong stays true to his words and gives you the sweetest, most gentle and genuine aftercare you've ever experienced. Not only does he run you a bath, he also makes sure to keep you hydrated, massage your body, take care of your night time skincare routine, feed you snacks and hold you close to his body as you allow the exhaustion of the day finally get the best of you.

"You're so good to me, Daddy", you mumble against his chest and place a soft kiss against his warm skin, not knowing you're driving rhe butterflies in his stomach into insanity, "thank you so much."

"Anything for my perfect girl. I'd lay the world to your feet if you let me, Baby. Thank you for giving me what I've been missing all my life."

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: AND IT FINALLY HAPPENED 🤕 im super sleepy rn so pls ignore the typos but omg you guys have no idea how patiently ive been counting down the chaps and we have finally made it. daddy dom jongseong has officially entered the chat and i'm SO ready fo indulge in it. please please please dont hold back with letting me know what you think, you guys know inlove reading y'all's thoughts 🥺 thank you sm for all the love and support, sendinc everyone kisses! feedback in form of asks, comments or messages is always appreciated babies!💞🧸)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @xrr-s4sha @kwiwin @heelcvr @deobitifull @kpoprhia @doodlelibrary @abrazosolorcereza @certifiedmoa @sleeping-demons @heerinnie @ohmy-moonlightx @heeswif3y @hoonieluv @fakeuwus @jjaeyuns @cheybabey @ineedsomezzz @super-amberlynn @kshoshi @tinie03 @jseongies @mimikittysblog @primroselover @heebrry @jebetwo @donghyckl @07myonlylove @enhamysunshines @quemirasboboandapaya @lostwonderwall @seuomo @enhaz1 @teawithbucky @beomgyusonlywife @dammit-jjk @lhsvibez @azurez @boutyouwonu @finchyyy @ocyeanicc @jaylaxies @in-somnias-world @zerasari @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @capri-cuntz @fluerz @3amstarlight

#enhypen social media au #enhypen smau #enhypen social au #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen writers #enhypen smut #park jongseong smau #park jongseong social media au #park jongseong smut #park jongseong angst #park jongseong fluff #park jongseong x reader #park jay x reader

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cosmicbucky · 7 months

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A chubby reader who's super self conscious of her belly and bust? Like she's strong and stuff, comes with the higher weight, but just....

Cant really wear anything unless it's sweats and a sweater, or a t-shirt. Almost never goes out.

And one day Bucky comes to the compound. Reader immediately gets a crush, and has major anxiety over it, like "leaving the room when he comes near" anxiety. Bucky thinks it's his fault, that he's done something wrong and talks to you about it.

He decides to talk to you about it, crying ensues because insecurities, and then the fluff.

Sorry this ask is so long, I'm kinda scrambled XP

hi, lovely! 💫

first of all, don't apologize for bringing this beautiful request into my world! i was beyond excited to have the chance to bring this idea to life, and i hope the direction i took with it does justice to what you had in mind!

second of all, i am so sorry this took me so long to put out, this request is so lovely and i really wanted to make it the best i could.

i hope you enjoy!

matches

pairing: bucky barnes x midsize!reader

word count: 3974

warnings: insecurities and self consciousness, mild body image issues, brief self depreciating thoughts, angst, mutual pining, fluff, swearing, allusions to mature themes, let me know if i missed anything!

please do not read this if you're not comfortable with any of the above topics. while they are not heavily focused on, they are the main theme of this fic

a/n: big thanks to @buckylattes for reading this and catching some of the dumb ass mistakes i made lmao

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

Being part of the Rescue and Reconnaissance division of Stark Industries wasn't the most glamorous job, but you loved it. You got to work nearly hand in hand with field agents every day, formulating plans for raids, rescues, infiltrations, or general takedown missions to make sure all those involved worked as safely and efficiently as possible.

You were the one they turned to when a new plan was needed; when they were at risk. There were a few agents who refused to listen to anyone other than you when it came to these times - specifically asking for you to help them through.

Agent Barnes was one of these people, and though you could never voice it, he was your favourite to deal with. He was always kind and courteous, understanding in the fact that despite not being in the same rankings as him, you damn well knew what you were doing. And, well, it didn't hurt that he always found a moment to be a charming little flirt.

You have no idea why he had such faith in you. Maybe it was because you always took what he suggested into consideration when calculating next steps. Maybe it was because your ideas were as crazy as his sometimes. Maybe it was simply because he liked the sound of your voice.

You never knew.

You never actually met him.

All your dealings with field agents were done from the safety of your control room. You never minded it, though. It was nice, in a way. You absolutely loved doing what you do, but you would never be able to handle being around field agents all the time. Not when they look the way they do, and you…. well, you're you.

Your thighs touch when you walk, your belly shakes when you laugh, your arms jiggle when you move. You have to painstakingly pick out the right kinds of shirts, otherwise your chest will make it seem like you're three times as big as you really are.

You were the chubby girl who always hid in the shadows, too afraid to let the world see how bright you truly shine - you were a flame ready to ignite, but no one around you ever offered you a match.

You were used to it. You made peace with it a long time ago, finding solace in your own company instead of relying on other people to enjoy your time with. It still bothered you from time to time, and you let yourself have days where you wallowed in it, wishing things were different, wishing you looked different. Though, for the most part, it stopped bothering you so much the older you got.

Until the day you finally met Bucky.

It was a strange day, being sent to the compound. You've never been sent anywhere before, always planted in your seat while talking to field agents across the world. Yet here you were, being requested by Tony Stark himself.

You must have spent hours trying to find the right outfit. One that showed off your curves without accentuating the extra pudge around your middle. One that complimented your chest without highlighting the size. One that showed off your ass without making it look massive. One that carefully hid your arms. One that you felt comfortable in.

It felt like your heart was in your throat the whole time. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a full on frenzy, and you had to take deep breaths every few seconds to stay calm; and to not throw up.

You barely heard it when Tony said he wanted you working under him. You could hardly process it when he said he created a job just for you. You didn't quite understand it when he told you there was space for you at the compound, and he wanted you here full time.

All you could do was dumbly nod your head, trying to focus on what he was saying instead of the fact that Bucky Barnes was just outside the conference room.

By the time the meeting was over, you felt lightheaded. You clutched the contract you were given against your chest and took a final deep breath before leaving the room, hoping to get by unnoticed. It's not like he even knew who you really were, right?

A gentle calling of your name told you that you were very, very wrong.

Your feet became rooted in place as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing all you could on calming your nerves before turning around. And jesus christ, nothing could have prepared you for how beautiful this man actually was in person.

"Hi," you breathed out, a tiny shy smile gracing your lips.

"Hi," he said, unintentionally mimicking you.

His eyes travelled over your face before taking their time roaming your body; you shifted uncomfortably and clutched the contract a little tighter as he stayed fixed on you. A smirk graced his lips, but it was gone before you could really focus on it.

"It's, uh-... it's nice to finally meet you, Agent Barnes," you muttered sheepishly, hesitantly offering him your hand.

"You can call me Bucky," he said, smiling warmly as he took your hand in his, sending fire throughout your whole body. "I'd like to say thank you for saving my ass as often as you do, but thank you doesn't seem like enough."

You chuckled, feeling your face flush under his gaze. "'Thank you' suffices just fine, Bucky. I've only been doing my job."

"Speaking of," he started, tilting his head a little as he eyed the contract you held. "You gonna take it?" he asked curiously, his eyes snapping back to yours.

"What?" you asked, caught off guard by his question.

"The job," he said, gesturing between the contract in your hands and the conference room you just occupied. "You gonna say yes?"

"How do you know about that?" you asked curiously.

"I know things," he said passively, shrugging his shoulders. "How 'bout I show you around? You can see the place before you decide anything."

You wanted to say no. You wanted to run away and retreat into yourself once more. Though something about the way he was looking at you made it hard to do so.

So, you agreed.

And that's how everything started.

You took the job, moving into the compound a few days after that. You quickly made friends with the girls, and they became your support group; they would help you when it came to shopping for clothes or finding the right outfit for events. They offered to go for walks with you or do yoga - anything you felt like doing, really. You still felt inferior to them from time to time, but not because they made you feel that way; no one at the compound did.

Only yourself.

When it came to the boys, it was more or less the same thing. You felt comfortable around them, and you never minded close contact or them seeing you in tighter fitting clothes.

Everyone was family, and it never felt awkward or uncomfortable around them.

Except for when it came to Bucky.

You still grew closer to him over the months of you living at the compound so far, but it hasn't been easy. It was a constant challenge, and it grew harder for you day after day.

When it came to you working alongside him on his missions, everything was great. Nothing with him changed, aside from him throwing out a few more flirty comments. And, since you still had the safety net of being behind comms, you threw some right back at him.

Once the missions were over, though, it was hard to be around him. You wanted to be around him, but it was nearly impossible. Your feelings for him grew, and the stronger your feelings were, the more distant you became.

You were careful to only wear sweaters or loose tees paired with sweatpants around him, making sure he would never catch sight of the extra weight you carried around. You quit eating around him; it's not like you had bad eating habits, but you couldn't shake the panic that he would somehow be disgusted, that he would think the reason you're so chubby was because of your diet. You stopped sitting near him during movie nights, and you never hugged him. No matter how much you itched to wrap your arms around him when he came home safe from missions, you couldn't risk him feeling the rolls your body carried, or how soft and pudgy you were.

It was driving Bucky crazy.

From the minute he finally set his eyes on you, he couldn't get you out of his head. He was beyond thrilled when you agreed to Stark's offer, and he couldn't wait to take the opportunity to get to know you - which was a massive step for him. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling he did something to upset you.

He grew more confused every day. When it came to conversing over the comms during missions, you two were like a well oiled machine; giggles and flirting and jokes of previous missions. No one would ever know something was amiss.

Yet when everyone would return home, it was like a switch was flipped. You greeted everyone with hugs and smiles and affection, and Bucky always waited patiently for his turn: but it never came. Instead, you turned to him with an awkward smile and shining eyes and gave him the traditional "welcome home, soldier" that, despite everything, always pulled a smile from his lips.

He racked his brain every night trying to figure out if he did something, if he said something, but he could never come up with anything. He could never find a reason for the way you would some days leave the room as soon as he entered, for why you always hid away from him when he would catch you off guard in workout clothes or formal attire. He could never come up with an explanation and it was eating him alive.

The final straw came for him on the night of Pepper’s birthday party.

He didn’t want to go, he never wanted to go to these things, but ever since you came around he found himself more willing to at least make an appearance; if only to see you. However, he wasn’t even positive if you were going to show up this time, given the way you’ve been so distant lately - and that made him not want to go at all. So he was biding his time, sitting in the kitchen and emptying a bottle of whiskey, trying to not make it obvious that he was waiting to see if you’d wander out of your room before he slipped away to the party.

You stood in front of your mirror for what felt like hours, never before feeling more diffident as you assessed your reflection. You’ve been to some of Tony’s parties before, but this was for Pepper - it was the most grandiose one you’ve attended to date. You weren’t left much choice but to dress your fanciest, and you felt so unfamiliar with your own body as your hands trailed down the fabric of your dress. It was form fitting, hugging every curve you had and accentuating your figure in a way you weren’t used to seeing. The straps were small and the cut was low, it travelled midcalf and had a small slit up the side, showing way more of your leg than you wanted. You had a burning desire to change, but Nat insisted you looked incredible, and Wanda already applied a touch of makeup to match the dress - not to mention you were already running late as it was.

With one last heavy sigh, you steeled yourself before slipping on your heels and marching out of your room. You thought of anything and everything you could as you marched down the hall, doing your best to pay no mind to the way you felt the fabric clinging to your body with every move you made. God, you really should have put on shapewear.

Bucky heard you before he saw you, your footfalls echoing through the floor in the same pattern he came to memorize in the months you’ve been here. He took a deep breath, prepared for the fact that you would most likely brush him off once more. He was not prepared, though, for the sight of you as you rounded the corner.

You were not prepared to see him sitting there, clad in a pressed suit, or for him to quite literally choke on the drink he was nursing as he took in your presence.

“Jesus, Bucky. Are you alright?” you inquired, conflicted between staying where you stood and approaching him.

A dismissive wave of his hand had you staying in place, your arms wrapping around your middle as you began to feel exposed to him.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” he coughed out, refilling his glass as if nothing happened.

You stood there quietly, completely unsure of what to do next. The silence was becoming louder and louder but you didn’t want to draw his attention to you. Not when you were looking like this. Not when he’d be able to see every curve and divot of your body, the protrusion of your stomach, the ample raise of your chest. You were really starting to regret not changing.

“Are you gonna stand there and stare all night or head to the party?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the glass before him. His tone was playful, but his voice had a rasp to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, uh - sorry,” you muttered, clearing your throat as you slowly advanced in his direction. “Are, um-… are you gonna join the party?”

He huffed a small laugh, his eyes finally raising to meet yours only to find that you were looking almost everywhere but at him, effectively wiping the small smile from his face.

“I’m not so sure,” he said lowly, downing the contents of his glass as he kept his eyes on you.

You hummed, looking down at your hands before chancing a glance at him; his gaze on you so intense that you immediately looked away again.

“Well, I- I hope to see you there,” you said sincerely, wringing your fingers together. “You look really nice, Buck” you added quietly, looking up at him just long enough to flash him a warm smile before continuing through the kitchen.

“Did I do something wrong?” he called after you, the hurt in his voice impossible to miss.

“What?” you asked in confusion, turning to glance in his direction.

“Did I do something wrong?” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “Because ever since you moved in here, it’s like you can’t stand the sight of me.”

You couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that left you, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not true.”

“No?” he asked, his tone taking on a new edge. “Are you sure? ‘Cause you can’t even fucking look at me right now. You practically run from me when I enter the same room, you do everything you can to avoid me, and let’s not forget the fact that I’m the only one around here who you don’t hug after getting back from missions.”

“Bucky-” you tried to explain, but the lump forming in your throat stopped you short.

“I just wanna know what I did,” he carried on, voice softer this time. “I don’t know if you’re angry with me or- or if you’re scared of me-”

“I am not scared of you,” you interrupted, finally meeting his gaze. “Please don’t think that.”

“What else am I supposed to think?” he asked quietly. “Everything is fine when I’m out on the field, we- I get along with you better than anyone. But then I come home, and it’s not the same.”

“It’s not-... it’s not like that, Bucky,” you whispered sadly, unintentionally looking away from him again.

“Yeah, if you say so,” he said curtly, sighing in defeat as he filled his glass again. “Just enjoy the party, okay?”

“You’re not coming?” you asked, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Well, you’re just gonna avoid me anyway. Might as well make it easier for you and stay here,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the twirling glass in his hands.

“I don’t want you to think like that,” you admitted softly. “I- I don’t mean to do the things I do.”

“Then why do they happen?” he inquired, his eyes meeting yours and displaying a painful mix of hurt and confusion.

“Because,” you started, feeling your bottom lip quiver. “I mean, look at me, Buck,” you finished, as if that was explanation enough.

“Believe me, I’m looking,” he said gently. “And you look-... well, I wanna say you look beautiful, but that implies you don’t always look beautiful, so, I- I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” he added, his voice so low he may as well have been speaking to himself, but you heard every word he muttered.

“...What?” you breathed out, staring over at him.

“What?” he questioned, glancing up to catch your eye.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat but it just kept on growing, forcing you to choke on your words.

“Hey, wait, don’t-... okay, now I really said something wrong, right?” he asked quickly, starting to panic as he watched your eyes fill with tears.

Shaking your head vehemently, you delicately wiped your eyes, hoping not to smudge the work that Wanda did for you. “No, you- I just didn’t expect you to say that. I-... I'm not used to hearing that."

"You're not?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

You almost laughed, and you probably would have if it wasn't such an embarrassing thing to admit. "No. I'm… guys don't really call girls who look like me beautiful."

He fell silent for a minute, eyeing you carefully before shifting in his seat, resting his arms on the table.

"You know, I've been alive for a pretty long time now," he said conversationally, as if you weren't on the cusp of a breakdown. "And I've also been quite literally around the whole world in that time. Some of it I remember, some of it… not so much. But even so, do you know what the one thing I can say with complete certainty is?"

You waited for him to go on for a moment before realizing he was actually looking for an answer. "No, what?" you manage to croak out.

He smiled softly, relaxing in his seat again. "I have, quite literally, never met anyone as beautiful as you. And I mean in both appearance and personality."

"But I- I'm not… I don't have the kind of body like the other women around here," you murmured, casting your gaze downwards as if you were ashamed of your words.

"So?" he asked incredulously. "Do you seriously think that you're automatically not beautiful just because you aren't the same size as them?"

"No, it- you can't- I'm not-" you tried to argue, but all you could get out were a few utterances before you had to choke back a sob, completely lost on how to express yourself.

"Is this why you've been avoiding me? Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?" he asked anxiously, fighting the urge to approach you.

"Yes. I mean no, I-" you cut yourself off with a sigh, taking a moment to consider your answer. "I've been too embarrassed to be around you. I-... I was afraid you'd be repulsed by me and that I'd lose you."

"Repulsed by you? A woman who puts fucking goddesses to shame?" he asked in disbelief. "Did me choking on my drink earlier not prove how taken by you I am?"

"Is that what that was?" you wondered, letting out a watery laugh.

"Yeah, that's what that was," he confirmed with a soft chuckle. "A guy does a real life spit take when he sees the girl of his dreams looking like the focus of a goddamn renaissance painting and she doesn't even realize it," he mumbled in exasperation, yet his eyes carried a playful sparkle.

"The girl of your dreams?" you repeated in shock, your voice a nervous whisper.

"Was that too cliché?" he questioned, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe a little," you said playfully, sniffling quietly.

"I know how it feels, you know," he said softly. "To feel uncomfortable in your own body. But if you'd let me, I'll spend every day proving to you that I see you as nothing short of perfect."

You could only nod, giving him a weak smile as you fought back a wave of tears. "Yeah, I-... I could do that, too," you agreed quietly.

He grinned softly, greedily taking in your appearance once more before tearing his eyes away. "Come on," he urged, downing his drink before standing up. "You owe me about seven dances."

"Where does that number come from?" you asked with a laugh, watching as he approached you.

"For how many parties you snubbed me at so far," he replied casually, stopping as he stood before you.

"I never snubbed you," you grumbled, peering up at him.

"Sure you didn't," he teased, carefully wiping the tears from your face.

"Do I still look okay?" you asked nervously, fidgiting slightly under his touch.

"Gorgeous as ever," he replied sincerely.

You couldn't help but grin, laughing a little anxiously. "Okay. Come on, or else we won't have enough time for all those dances."

Bucky laughed happily, taking your hand and rushing to join the party, having you giggling in his wake as you did your best to keep up.

You let him whisk you away for the rest of the night, leading you through all the dances you owed him; and a few more, for good measure, as Bucky put it.

He stayed true to his word, and there wasn't a second that you spent with him where you didn't feel like the most ravishing woman to walk the earth.

Especially when he took his precious time in the dark of the night to memorize and worship every inch of your body over and over again.

So as you sat here now, watching from across the room as he danced with the crowd, you couldn't help but feel foolish. Foolish for letting your thoughts take away the extra time you could have had with him, foolish for ever thinking this incredible man would ever judge you for something so trivial. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you heard from beside you, ripping you from your reverie.

You turned your head, grinning as you saw the very man himself had taken up the seat to your left. "What, get tired of dancing already, old man?"

He gasped, feigning offense as he took in your words. "I'd watch who you're calling old, sweetheart," he warned playfully.

"I'd watch who you're calling sweetheart. I happen to be a married woman now, you know," you replied jovially.

"Married, huh? Should've known I didn't stand a chance," he lamented, shaking his head. "How about a pity dance?" he suggested with a grin, holding his hand out to you.

You giggled softly, taking his hand with a grin of your own. "Lead the way, Mr. Barnes."

"Anything for you, Mrs. Barnes," he replied with a wink, leading you to the dance floor.

And just like he did three years ago, he whisked you away and led you through a whole seven dances; and a few more, for good measure.

You were a flame, finally ignited, and Bucky was your match.

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unclewaynemunson · 7 months

Text

CW for body issues and negative thoughts surrounding weight gaining

Cold autumn air has fallen over Hawkins for the first time in months. Steve reaches into the back of his closet to find his favorite sweater, the dark red one that his grandmother made him when he was in his junior year. The wool still feels just as soft in his hands as it was last year.

He pulls it over his head, welcoming the warmth it immediately gives off around him, but it feels tighter than he remembers it being. He pulls and adjusts the fabric, then gives himself a critical look in the mirror, and - fuck. It must've shrunk somehow. He messed up his favorite sweater.

But... The last time he wore it, on that one cold night at the end of April, it still fit him perfectly. He remembers that night clearly: they were all sitting around a campfire in the trailer park for Wayne's birthday, and Eddie had kept looking at him like that sweater was causing all kinds of unholy thoughts - partly the reason why it's Steve's favorite.

The sweater can't possibly have shrunk lying unused in the back of his closet for months. It didn't shrink; Steve has grown.

Suddenly, he looks at himself in the mirror and sees a whole other person. He zeroes in on all kinds of details he had never paid much attention to before, and he wonders how he could've ever missed what was happening to him: his expanding belly, the fat that has gathered around his hips, his stretched-out thighs... His upper legs are looking more chubby than muscled now that he stopped swimming regularly, and his sweater is tight around his upper arms and too narrow over his belly, the imprint of his belly button clearly visible in the stretched-out fabric.

He has no idea for how long he has been staring at himself when the bedroom door opens and Eddie comes in, still roughly brushing a towel over his wet hair. He's wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Again, Steve wonders how he could ever have missed the way his body changed, especially next to Eddie: Eddie, who has always been lean, on the verge of being scrawny, his ribs almost visible underneath his tattooed skin and not a single curve in sight.

Eddie freezes in his tracks when he notices Steve, his eyes hovering over the red sweater. Steve feels caught, exposed under Eddie's gaze. He must be coming to the same conclusion that Steve had reached a minute before: that Steve's best days are behind him. That he's getting fat and that his body will only deteriorate further from now on. That he stopped taking good care of himself. That he's only going to get uglier with age.

'Sorry,' he's quick to say when Eddie won't stop staring. He turns his body away from Eddie's gaze, and starts rummaging around in his closet to find something with a looser fit. 'I didn't realize it wouldn't fit anymore, I'm gonna get changed right away. I suppose the red isn't really your color, but you can have it if you want to, I'm sure it'll fit you perfectly.'

He feels hands grabbing the underside of the sweater from behind.

'No.'

'What?'

He turns around, facing Eddie again, who now fists his hands into the sides of the fabric instead.

'Don't you dare take this off. Only one person is allowed to do that from now on, and that person is me.' There's a look in Eddie's eyes that Steve only recognizes from very different settings, like when he used to get home after a run all sweaty, or when one of them sinks to his knees in front of the other.

'What is happening?' he mumbles under his breath.

'You, in this tight sweater?' Eddie's voice is low and breathy. 'You are a fucking dream, Steve Harrington.'

Steve takes a step backwards, but Eddie's hands stay plastered right where they are.

'Are you making a fool of me?'

Eddie frowns and he finally lets his grip on Steve's sweater go.

'Why would you think that?'

Steve huffs, needlessly gestures to his own body. 'I look ridiculous!' he points out, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. 'It doesn't fit anymore, I let myself get fat, I'm getting old and ugly, I–'

With one step, Eddie is right in front of Steve again, shutting him up by placing his index finger against Steve's lips.

'Not another word,' he says. 'I don't want to hear you talk like that about yourself ever again. You got it all wrong, you know. I mean, don't get me wrong, you were already hella sexy in your jock days, but your soft pillow belly is, like, the closest one can get to heaven here on earth.'

It should be too much, it should sound insincere because of how dramatic it is - but Steve is used to Eddie's dramatics and he can see that Eddie is being one hundred percent serious right now.

'You are the sexiest man I know, and every pound you've gained is a beautiful one. You are gorgeous, Steve – and you will keep being gorgeous and sexy in every shape you'll get.' His hands are roaming over Steve's sweater again, comforting and hungry at the same time. 'I do have to ask you not to wear this sweater outside of our house, though. It'll cause riots. People might die because of it.'

He looks dead serious saying it, and Steve can't help but laugh before he tugs Eddie closer and presses their lips together.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #i saw people wanted the s2 red sweater to make an appearance again so here we go i guess #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet #tw body issues #tw body image #tw weight #(lemme know if i forgot a tw please)

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yawnderu · 5 months

Text

>Simon's first Christmas with bimbo!reader and her parents.

“And after we go to my parent's house, we can go to yours and then come back here?” Simon's face drops for a second before he tries his best to put on a small, fake smile. You can feel how tense his body is, a complete contrast to how relaxed he was before you spoke.

“Let's just go to yours and then come back here, love.” You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows, a small frown on your lips as you hear how tense he sounds, even when he's trying to hide it. You move a little bit in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck and resting your chin on his chest.

“You don't talk to your family?” You ask softly, trying to be as careful as possible. Simon simply looks away, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to think of what to say. His eyes eventually go back to you, his jaw muscles tensed up before he tries to relax.

“Somethin' like that.” How does he go about telling you his entire family got executed and he found them dead? Should he tell you he burned their bodies and has no physical memories of them after giving them a funeral pyre? Does he tell you he was on the news after being framed for the murders? He takes a deep breath, his lungs greedily taking in the air before he speaks again.

“You still making me wear that ugly Christmas sweater you got me?” His smile turns more honest when you smack his arm, the small giggle coming out of you cutting the tension.

“They're not ugly— well... yeah, maybe a little bit, but what's the point of Christmas if you can't wear ugly sweaters with your loved ones?” You grin up at him, knowing better than to press the previous topic. He'll tell you more when he's ready, you're sure of it.

“I look like the town's idiot with it on, love.” You stifle a giggle, hiding your face on the crook of his neck as your shoulder shake in silent laughter. He does look... interesting with the colorful Christmas sweater on, a complete contrast to his stoic face and bulging muscles.

“You look cute with it!” You protest, peppering his face in kisses, not caring about the many kiss marks you're leaving all over his pretty face. He scrunches up his face in fake annoyance despite the smile on his lips, his hand running up and down your back, soothing both you and him.

He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to tell you the truth about his family or his past, but at the very least, you're never pushy about it. He knows you've seen the many scars on his body, yet you still look at him with nothing but pure devotion in your eyes.

Spending Christmas with a family for the first time in many years definitely touches something in Simon's soul. Your parents were so incredibly welcoming to him, your father calling him ''son'' and treating him like he was always part of your family, already having plenty of gifts ready for him based on what you've told him about his interests. Your mother reminds him of his own— incredibly patient and nurturing, making sure to feed him well and secretly checking up on him when she notices he's getting choked up.

Simon doesn't cry, but on the drive back home, his eyes are stinging, a small, proud smile on his lips as you tell him how your family invited you both to a bigger gathering for New Year.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

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cannellee · 7 months

Note

Speaking of yandere omegaverse, may I make a request for yandere alpha!baji? Istg I absolutely need that man, literally making me feral and FOR WHAT?

TOKYO REVENGERS YANDERE OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ yandere!alpha! Baji x omega! Reader

— yandere omegaverse headcanons

you're absolutely right anon & i live for soft baji, even as a yandere he is a softie in my eyes>:(

my masterlist : ☆

YANDERE!ALPHA!BAJI

alpha baji is a complete menace to anyone foreign to the both of you.

he doesn't let you out of his sight and he'd like it best if you could stay still somewhere he can watch over you.

anyone who is allowed to go near you has passed baji's approval, if not, expect a few limbs torn apart. they just had to listen.

he doesn't joke around when it comes to your protection, and you should act right if you don't want to meet one of his punishments.

considering his aggressiveness when he interacts with others, you would expect something similar for you. but he's actually a big sweetheart, although he won't actively show it. but you can be sure to never receive any physical punishment from him.

you're his beloved omega, fragile and kind, his role is to protect you obviously, he wouldn't go against his own instincts & inflict you pain. he would rather die.

not a big surprise but you can't go anywhere without his scent on you. his pheromones are so strong it drives off any curious alphas.

baji is patient but he needs his bite on your neck, it's an alpha thing. he can't consider you his if you're not even claimed by him in that way. that's why he's sinking his teeth into your skin the first day of your relationship. no wasted time with baji!

he knows you're the one so he doesn't need any more time to think and wonder if that's the right move. he knows it is.

baji didn't fall for you instantly unlike most yandere. he helped you out during a delicate situation and ended up walking you home at night for safety reasons. he got curious about you, your soft speech, sweet gestures along with your smell he would spray himself with if it was a perfume.

all of this beckoned him to follow you home when he came across you a few days after first meeting you. he remembered how a group of alphas cornered you into a dark alley and this new feeling ordered him to make sure you got home safe tonight as well.

he didn't lose time making a move and befriending you before courting you for real.

scented plushies, necklaces with a small piece of clothing that smells just like him inside a locket, things that remind him of you like flowers or sweet food like cupcakes and fruits... he's one to make you wear his sweaters that he wore all day later in the relationship, he desperately needs his scent on you.

baji was always so stoic and seemed so sure of himself you couldn't help but let this sensation of pure peace and safety take over you.

whereas, he saw you as something delicate who needed to be protected and looked after. he was so used to hang out with other alphas, fighting alongside them and giving harsh slaps as hellos. he couldn't comprehend how omegas were so weak compared to him. your eyes were so pure, an innocence in your scent told him you only ever acted kindly and in consideration of others. he was fascinated and enamored.

he also is really lucid with your feelings, he's not delusional and acting like you're so in tune with how he's feeling. he's aware that while he has a sense of purpose when you're by his side, it isn't reciprocated by you.

it's not that he doesn't care about your feelings, it's more like a "she needs more time". he loves you a lot, he really does, that's why he tries as much as possible to not come off as overbearing and overwhelming.

he'll scent you slowly and softly, making sure you associate his touch with something positive to teach you to long for his affection.

as I said he's patient, and smart, he won't rush things in fear of messing up everything. one wrong move, a slight negative change in his voice while he talks to you, a harsh gesture that could be misinterpreted, and all that trust he so carefully built up will collapse because of his behaviour.

he wouldn't let that happen, so of course he's always being extra cautious and adopts a very welcoming and reassuring approach.

you have no reason to feel threaten, that's why when he eventually starts locking you up inside his house : you don't really say a thing, you've grown too dependent on him.

you find yourself lucky to have an alpha such as baji, who would tear anybody's throat just for you but gently cradles you in his arms when he's in your nest.

he loves it when you asks for his permission to do anything you think he might disapprove. knowing your place saves him the trouble of lecturing you and ruining the mood.

he'll make you wear a collar if you seem too adamant about listening to him. on some occasions when he's particularly tired or irritated, he might scare you into obeying him, but just so you know he'll never actually be true to his threats.

when you're in heat, you can be 100% sure he'll be at your side. your heats trigger his rut so expect double trouble : while he has some self control around you and acts as carefully as he can, the fog in his brain when his mind is solely focused on breeding you can make him quite demanding.

your house will reek alpha pheromones for a few days, other people literally running away once they as much as catch a sniff from under your door. the smell is so strong it's impossible not to notice it if you pass in front of it.

he gets extra protective when you're in heat, so you'll never be leaving the nest and you'll obey to whatever he says, because he's your alpha and he knows better, especially when you're this vulnerable and incapable of taking care of yourself.

forces you to lay still under him while he pounds into you with full force. he covers you with musky pheromones and others displays of dominance that you need to accept. and you do, the heat making you way more docile than usual.

he's biting and licking your neck the whole time, leaving it completely swollen and red from all the marking at the end of his rut. he doesn't feel bad about it afterwards, it's only natural as your alpha that he marks what's his.

as sweet as he is, he's a very controlling alpha. everything you do needs his approval. there's this power imbalance between you where baji clearly has the upper hand, he's the one who decides and you're the one who follows.

you have a tracker on your phone (if he even lets you have a phone), he chained you the first weeks after locking you up not wanting to see you escape and sometimes remind you of his clear dominance by making you feel dumb & dehumanizing you. he wants you to understand that you need baji as much as he needs you. you're an omega and having an alpha such as baji by your side is an accomplishment in itself. that's how you're supposed to feel. and you will in a few months, because baji will make sure you become unable to function properly without him.

he'll feel so satisfied when you finally recognize him as your alpha. he wants to reward you for being so good to him!

the rare times you both go out, you're always surprised how everybody seems to cower away from the both of you. you know baji looks and is threatening, you know what he's capable of and what reputation he has, but still, it sometimes feels a bit weird. you're not dumb enough to not notice the subtle glares and literal warnings in his scent and behaviour. nobody wants to be in his way.

and when you've been good and baji thought it was a good idea to allow you a small walk outside, you both came across the 1st division.

chifuyu was there with no more than 10 guys, all alphas. while baji never really let you out scared you'll get hurt, he trusted chifuyu enough to let him meet you, though rarely. your alpha's friend greeted you warmly, keeping a distance with you knowing the possessive nature of baji and having already witnessed first hand his anger when a stranger touched his omega.

he knew baji valued him as a close friend, but you would always come first and chifuyu wasn't willing to compromise both his friendship and his life.

while baji and chifuyu were happily chatting, baji always kept you close by with a hand on you waist or holding yours. you didn't say a thing and just waited for him to finish talking like the obedient mate you knew he liked.

what you hadn't expected is for an overjoyed recruit to clumsily push you aside to have a chance to talk to baji. he looked like a weird fanatic and addressed himself to baji with bright wide eyes and pure adoration.

you didn't mean to fall down, it was a slight push and you would have landed right back on your feet if you hadn't walked into a puddle of water. slippery feet and surprise made you touch the ground in a second while baji didn't even have time to comprehend what happened.

the young alpha didn't even look back at you and acted like nothing happened, you weren't sure if he actually even saw you fall. either way, the issue was be the same.

chifuyu instantly stopped talking and sent worried looks to baji, and the other members knew better than to stay close while sensing what was about to unfold. they all knew baji, and one of the most important unspoken rule was to treat you with respect while keeping a good distance. not having been informed, this guy was dead meat, and you understood it as soon as baji helped you up.

your hands were wet and bruised, he picked you up quickly and very carefully. he ordered you to go sit on the bench a few meters away to wait for him while he 'has a word with him'.

cut short in his words, the young alpha was thrown to the ground and you turned your head to the other side not wanting to see anything else, the sound of punches being already too much for you.

he wasted no time in joining you, told you that you would go back to your house for now and could always go out another time. for now his instincts were urging him to carry you somewhere safe and far from potential danger.

you know that despite his words, you wouldn't see the light of the sun anytime soon. those type of scenarios make him more cautious than usual and he won't risk anything like that to happen again.

he'll bring you snacks, ice creams and other stuff from outside in hope of making you stop pouting. he can't let you go out, you should understand why he does that.

just let him take care of you the way any omega needs and would absolutely crave. baji only want one thing and it's to keep you safe and sound, there's nowhere where you're more protected than by his side.

395 notes · View notes

thatonewritersomewhere · 1 month

Text

Cat's Game

Warnings: Fluff, dating, smut (blowjob, fingering, p in v, creampie, aftercare)

Summary: College au, aged up characters, Kirishima x fem!reader, Kirishima is somewhat of a soft dom - partners for a project becomes... something else...

Word Count: 6.2k

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"The partners for your project will be posted on the board at the beginning of tomorrow's class," Mr. Aizawa drawled in a tired voice, as usual. You wondered if he got any sleep, ever. The class collectively gathered their things and got up from their seats.

With your things in your bag, you walked out of the school and to the local coffee shop nearby, since you and Mina had planned for a day together after school. She had another class before she was done, so you grabbed out your laptop and started looking at possible topics for your research project. It was a National History Day project, except your teacher had to make it mandatory. And of course, you couldn't even choose your partners. 'I just hope I get a good partner,' you thought.

This year's theme for the project was "Turning Points in History", so a lot of major events that had a lot of evidence would be pretty good. You started to write out a list of events that would be good, when Mina walked through the door and into the shop.

"Mina!" You called out to her, getting up to give her a hug. You both have been super busy this school year, so it always feels great when you get to see each other after a while. In the embrace, you could tell she smelled like bubblegum, her favorite perfume. She wore white dress pants with a pink blouse, and her hair was down. She is one of the most fashionable people you know, and always lives up to that.

"You look so good today!" You told her, gesturing at her outfit.

"Thank you! You do too!" she said. Your outfit was not at nice as hers - just some lighter jeans with a long pink sweater on. It was funny that you were matching, without coordinating at all.

You waved her over to the table you were at, a smaller booth in the back of the shop. It was cute, and had multiple like this one - closed off on 3 sides, cute small pillows on the booth seats, and a large lamp hanging overhead. It was actually a really nice place to study.

You two sat down, and you closed your laptop as you moved back to where you were sitting.

"So how have you been? Is there any new tea?" Mina asked, a smirk poking at her lips.

"I don't know," you said. "Nothing new with people right now, thank goodness." Your luck with drama was not always the best, as it usually was more negative. Thankfully, though, there hasn't been much drama at all, so it's been good so far, and you told her this.

"There is this huge project we have to do for my history class, and the partners are assigned. I just hope I get someone good for that."

"Well, that's good," she said, her smile sweet. "I hope that any drama that comes your way is good drama that you can tell me about, and I hope your partner is who you hope it is," she said, and her sweet smile quickly became a smirk. You both laughed.

There wasn't anyone on your mind that came up at her comment, but you hoped that soon someone could fill that void.

The next class finally rolled around, and so the partners were posted on the board at the beginning of class. Since everyone was already crowded around the paper, you decided to set down your things and then come back. You maneuvered your way around the people that were done looking at it, and found yourself in front of the paper. You scrolled down the list of names.

Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta

Bakugo Katsuki, Izuku Midoriya

Yn/Ln, Eijiro Kirishima

Kyoka Jiro, Momo Yaoyurozu

You didnt look much after that, since you saw your own name. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know a lot of these people name-to-face. You would have to find Kirishima, whoever that was. The hope that they were someone good still remained in the back of your mind as you looked around the classroom, walking back to your seat.

Once Mr. Aizawa started calling out attendance, an idea popped up in your head. You would have to pay attention to figure out who Kirishima was, especially since they would be one of the first ones to get called. A few moments passed until you finally heard Mr. Aizawa call out their name. You looked around the room to find that the person who responded was a bright red-haired guy towards the back of the class.

You realized you would have to talk to him after class, and your anxiety shot up. 'I need to push through this and just talk to him,' you thought to yourself. Calming yourself, you took out your laptop to take some notes on the requirements for the project. You didn't want to look, but you hoped that he was taking some notes of his own at least.

After you made a whole rubric and watched a few videos, you felt more prepared about the requirements.

"The next few classes will be structured so that you are learning about National History Day and the requirements for the project, because apparently I have to show you those. Also that way you aren't learning anything new while also trying to do this entire project," Mr. Aizawa stated, his tone laced with boredom and fatigue. Contrastingly, his statement brought a few smiles to the students. Class time for a project would be a great way to get ahead on it.

Tentatively, you raised your hand.

"Yes, Ms. L/N?" Mr. Aizawa asked.

"I was wondering if we would be able to move closer to our partners so that we could use this time to work with them?" you asked, your voice a lot quieter than it normally was.

"Yes, you may," he answered. "As long as you are still quiet and not making too much noise. This is supposed to be a lecture class, so it's supposed to be quiet except for me, but I'm nice today."

A nice smile was brought to your lips, despite the anxious butterflies flitting around in your stomach. You snuck a glance back up at Kirishima, and found that he was looking at you as well. Quickly you turned away, your cheeks flushing red. You realized that you needed to talk to him, though, and turned back around.

"Do you want me to move up there?" you mouthed at him. He gave you a thumbs up and a smile in response.

"Okay, you may get started," Mr. Aizawa told the class. You packed up your things other than your open laptop and got up from your seat to move closer to Kirishima.

"Hi," you said as you placed your laptop down in the seat next to him.

"Hi," he replied. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he was looking you up and down. Your skin erupted with goosebumps, and you set down your bag behind the seat. You pulled the chair next to him out and sat down, re-logging into your laptop.

"Do you know what topic you want to do?" you asked Kirishima, turning to him. On your laptop was open the list of different topics you thought might be good.

"Right to business, huh?" he chuckled, taking a glance at your laptop. You laughed with him.

"Well, we have the time now, I'd rather use it and have to work less outside of class," you explained.

"That's... valid," he decided. "I wasn't quite sure yet, was there anything you had in mind?"

"Well..." you began.

The two of you ended up going with the Civil Rights Movement, which wasn't exactly the least common topic, but it was perfect for the theme of the project and you had decided that you were going to make the best presentation you could possibly make. Soon, though, the clock was close to the time the bell rang, and so you had decided to wrap up.

"Since we're partners for this project, do you wanna work on it outside of class? This might be the only class time we have to work on it," you told him.

"Yeah, that's fine," Kirishima said.

"Okay great," you paused, opening your phone. "Do you wanna put your number in and I can text you?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, taking your phone from your hand offering it to him. Quickly he typed in his number and his name, and then handed back your phone. It wasn't a moment too soon, either, because the bell rang right then.

"Awesome, thank you!" Closing your laptop and putting it in your bag, you shot a sweet smile at Kirishima. This time, he smiled back.

The walk back to your place wasn't that bad, and with his smile in your mind, you felt like you were back in no time.

That night you couldn't sleep. Turning over, you checked the clock, and it read:

1:03

You groaned as you turned back over. You had been doing so all night, and you were tired of it. You turned on your phone to see if you had any notifications. There weren't.

'Oh shoot,' you said aloud in the dark. Of course there weren't going to be any notifications. First of all, it was 1AM, and second of all, you were the one who had his number. Not the other way around. You went to contacts and found his name. You clicked on the info button and went to message.

'Hey, it's Y/N - can't sleep so I figured I'd text you even if you aren't up - if you see this, I was wondering if you are free tomorrow after class to work together for a bit on our project? If not it's fine, just let me know. Thanks!' You sat there with the message in the draft box, not yet sent. Finally, your 1AM self decided that it would be a great idea and sent the message. You closed the app and turned off your phone, setting it down on the nightstand next to you. Turning over once again, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. 23 minutes later, you received a message. You grabbed your phone off of the nightstand to open a text from Kirishima:

'Yeah, of course - I have practice but I am definitely free after that. Couldn't sleep either btw' Kirishima responded.

The butterflies came out of their cocoons in your stomach at his response. You tried to calm the butterflies as you responded, but it was tough when you were trying to schedule studying with him.

'Okay, when does practice end for you?' you asked.

You saw the typing bubble pop up after he read your question.

'Around 7:30' he answered.

'Jeez, that's kinda late' you replied. 7:30 would be around dinner, possibly after depending on when you made it.

'Yeah, if you're cool with that?' he asked.

Probably making a bad decision, you replied: 'Yeah, sure - my place'

'Ok cool' he answered quickly.

':)' Ending the conversation, you sent an emoji, put your phone down, and went to attempt to sleep again.

The next day went by extremely slow.

You weren't exactly happy about the late study time, but you weren't exactly opposed, either. Throughout the day, though, you watched as the time ticked by, taking as long as it possibly could, it seems. Your classes never seemed to end, the assignments and lectures dragged on and didn't help to pass the time, either. Finally, though, you were able to pack up your things and get back to your place. On your way home, you texted Kirishima your address. He probably wouldn't see it, but it will be there when he's done with practice.

When you got home, you rewrote your notes from your classes and got started on a few papers and assignments. Once you were done, you got started on making dinner, which was around 7. You weren't exactly the best cook, so it took you a lot longer to make things, but you got it done.

You had started the sauce for spaghetti, when you heard the doorbell ring. Your roomates wouldn't be home tonight, since they were going to a party. Expecting only one person to be at the door, you walked over and opened it.

There he was. Kirishima. And he was... wet?

"Sorry I'm late, I had to shower after practice," he said. "Took me a bit longer than I wanted to."

Quickly you glanced over at the clock to see what time it was. Chuckling, you said, "It's not even 8 yet."

"Oh, shit, my clocks run a bit fast. Forgot about that," he replied sheepishly.

"That's okay," you said, moving aside so he could step through. As he did, you took your split second of a chance to glance at him up and down. He was dressed comfortably (you couldn't blame him, he was just coming from practice) in sweatpants and a black t-shirt. The t-shirt was school merch, with the logo printed large on the front.

He walked in enough to close the door, so once you did, you started walking back to the kitchen where you were finishing up making dinner.

"You can sit down in here if you want, you don't have to be a lurker," you told him, chuckling. "None of the girls are gonna be home tonight, so we have some privacy."

"Oh, sorry," he said. "I didn't want to intrude."

"That's fine, you're in here now, so you might as well get comfortable. Plus, I'm almost done with spaghetti if you want some," you offered.

"I might take you up on that offer," he said. While you stirred the sauce, you could hear him behind you sitting in one of the seats at the counter. Your laptop and a few paper sources were also over on the counter.

A few minutes later, the sauce was done, and the noodles were now in the strainer in the sink.

"How much do you want?" you asked Kirishima.

"I can get it," he said. "I don't want to take too much."

"Okay," you said, grabbing out plates from the cabinet. You left the door open so that he could grab one too, and you went to grab your own food.

You sat down at the counter where your laptop was, and when he came and sat down next to you, he said, "Wow, this looks really good y/n. Thank you."

"Of course," you replied.

Since it was already late, the study session went by pretty fast. The two of you were getting a lot of work done.

When you took a pause, you glanced over at the clock, which read: 11:24

"Oh my gosh, you need to get back and get some sleep!" you exclaimed, not realizing how long you had been working for. "We have been working for way too long!"

"It's fine, no worries," he reassured you. "You do too, though, okay?" His gaze was soft as he looked at your panicked face. He must have been tired after almost 3 hours of work, plus it being after practice. This was normal for you, but you didn't know if it was for him. His soft gaze had to have been from tiredness, you told yourself, trying to push the butterflies and blush away.

"Okay, I will, but you need to get home first." You told him.

"Alright," he decided.

Even though his room was within walking distance from yours, you drove him home (because it was so late, you told yourself. Definitely not because you like him). In the walk back to his room from your car, you both listened to the light sounds of the night. It was sweet and calming after studying for so long.

"Thanks for coming over and working with me," you told Kirishima.

"Thank you for inviting me, and your spaghetti was great, too," he told you.

"Definitely. We should do this again," you suggested.

"For sure. Maybe my place next time?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Awesome. I'll text you."

His last glance at you of the night was one where he was smiling, and it filled you up with a warmth inside that you couldn't get rid of all the way home. That warmth helped you to sleep better than you had most nights at school yet.

3 weeks later and almost completely done with your project, you closed your laptop for the night. Kirishima was next to you, finishing up his last bit he needed for the presentation.

"This Friday was a bit rough, huh?" Kirishima asked you.

"Yeah, definitely. Classes lately have not been fun," you replied, a small smile sneaking onto your face.

"Glad we're almost done, though - this project will definitely be worth it once we're entirely finished," he commented.

"I did enjoy spending this time together, though," you said, trying to bring a positive aspect back to the topic.

"Same, I'm really glad we're partners," Kirishima said, his face flushing a pink where normally you never saw that. He turned away quickly, and you did too, smiling a bit at his blush.

Tonight you were dressed a bit nicer, since you were coming from dinner with an old friend, and you decided not to change. He was dressed nicer too, but you weren't quite sure why. It was definitely getting to you though, since normally you both dressed casual when you studied together.

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat. "Um, so normally I would ask if you wanted to study sometime this weekend, but since we're almost done with the project, would you like to go on a date with me instead?"

Immediately your heart swelled, suddenly your stomach was filled with hundreds of flitting butterflies and your face was hot, blush lighting up your face with red.

"Yes, I would love to," you said, the wave of joy finally breaking with a huge ecstatic smile on your face.

Kirishima's face lit up with red, almost as bright as his fiery hair. He proceeded to celebrate by jumping into the air as high as he could, pumping his fists in the air.

"YES! Okay, awesome!" He almost yelled, his excitement making you giggle.

"Okay, I'll pick you up tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, I'm free tomorrow so that should be okay," you told him, a cheesy grin stuck on your face. "Text me any other details I might need, okay?"

"Okay, awesome," he replied, his excitement still clearly showing on his face, also still bright red as well.

Soon after that he drove home, and when he stepped out the door to leave, you closed the door and pressed your back against it, standing there for a minute with a wild grin. Your emotions were running high, and you stepped away from the door only to jump around cheering in your front hallway for a bit.

The next day was the longest you have ever been through. He texted you in the morning that he was going to pick you up at 6, and that you could dress casual (because you asked him what you needed to wear). However, after waking up at 8 with a free day ahead of you, you didn't know what to do with yourself. Somehow, though, you managed to fill your day (partly because you were in a call with Mina half the morning, describing the situation and her giving you advice) and you were ready by 5:30 for Kirishima to arrive. You had decided to wear a dressier t-shirt with leggings.

Before 6:00 rolled around, Kirishima got to your place and walked up to your door, and before he got to knock on it (he took a second to hype himself up before he knocked on your door), you opened it and saw him standing there in a cute white shirt with black pants on. The outfit accentuated his figure well, and you could tell he was strong, and his muscles were toned. His bright red hair was fluffy, like he normally has it, and he donned a cute smile as he checked you out as well.

"Wow... you look really pretty," he said, blush creeping onto his cheeks. Your eyes were planted on his, and you could see he couldnt take his off of your shirt, which was a low, V-cut shirt and helped to show off your cleavage a bit.

You laughed as you replied, "Thank you, you do too."

This finally brought his eyes back up to your face, and the blush that was creeping up just onto his cheeks now covered his entire face as he realized he was totally caught.

"I'm sorry, you just... your outfit is- it's-" he stuttered, trying to explain himself.

"It's okay, I'm the one who wore the outfit," you told him. "Come on, take me where you want to, Kiri," you walked out the door and past him.

After a second he followed you back to his car, and he unlocked it so you both could get in.

The ride there wasn't very long, so you only got through a bit of small talk before you saw he was taking you to a mini-put course. You smiled as the memories of the last few times you had gone mini-putting, and you thought it was very cute that it would also be your first date with Kirishima.

The man who checked the two of you in was old, and he could tell that you were on a date together. He had a very dopey smile on while you both got putters and balls, and when you were walking out the door, he called, "Have fun, you lovebirds!" When the door shut, both of your faces were bright red, but you looked at each other and burst out into laughter.

Still laughing, you walked over to the first hole. This one was probably the easiest, being the most straightforward with only a few obstacles. After that, though, it only got harder.

The theme of the place was cute - it was a bit plain, being that it was outdoors-themed, with a few water features, but it was cute and it was fun. There were only a couple other people there, one group being a cute older couple that was almost done by the time you and Kirishima had started, and the other group being a small family that was about mid-way through the course. It was nice, though, because it meant that the two of you could go at your own pace, and talk about the things you wanted to, and just have fun together without any interruptions.

At each hole, you tried to get Kiri to go first so that you could stand behind him and sneak a few looks. Sometimes it worked, but other times he would catch you and laugh, or he would refuse (so that he could do the same thing, even though you definitely caught him more times than he caught you).

The evening was filled with laughter, teasing, and fun, and in the end, you both tied. At the last hole, Kirishima was in the lead by 1, and his first putt missed the hole by inches. He ended with 2 on the last hole. When your last turn came up, you gave it your best shot, even though you thought you weren't going to win. Your ball ended up making it in one shot, and when you went to pick up your ball out of the hole, Kirishima was there, his mouth wide open in shock. In the adrenaline of your comeback, you walked over to him.

"Cat's game," you whispered in his ear, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and gently closed his jaw as you did so.

Quickly you walked back into the check-in building, the heat in your cheeks rising extremely fast after that. You put back your ball and putter, told the older man that you would be right back, and rushed to the restroom. While you were in there, you took a second and washed your hands, calming yourself down.

You hadn't bothered to see if Kirishima followed you into the building, so when he burst into the bathroom, you were only half shocked. The shock only hit you when you turned around, your back to the sink, and he grabs your hips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, his face red with blush, his voice deep, but a little desperate.

"Yes," you responded, your voice shaky with shock and emotion. The clash of his lips against yours was electric, sparking throughout your body. One of his hands reaches up to your cheek, while the other stays at your hip. Slowly, the one at your hip moves from its position towards your stomach, where he slides his hand underneath your shirt and up, his thumb brushing against the bottom of your cleavage. At the same time, he moves his lips from yours and towards your jaw, moving down to your neck. He finds your sweet spot and begins to suck, earning a small moan from you.

"Kiri.." you start, but trail off when he continues.

"Don't worry, no one's coming," he says, trying to reassure you.

"Kiri, no," you pause, making him stop. "I want you, and I want more, I just don't want it here, in this bathroom at a mini-putt-course."

His bright red eyes change from hurt to confusion, to bright again when you tell him this.

"Ohhh," he says, pulling away gently. "Shoot, and I still have to pay for the date, too. Good idea," he commends you, which earns a laughing smile from you both.

Thankfully, when you leave the bathroom, the old man is turned around, reading something. Together, you walk up to the counter. Kiri pays for the time at the course, and together again you walk out and to his car.

When you sit down, Kiri takes a second before he starts the car to move your hair out of your face and behind your ear. The contact is filled with electricity, and makes you shiver, only being able to hope he didn't notice. After putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot, he puts his hand on your thigh, and you shiver even worse than you did seconds ago, goosebumps lighting up your skin. Discreetly, you try and close your knees to hide the heat pooling between your legs. You realize it doesn't quite work, though, when you see his smirk, and he proceeds to move his hand a bit further up.

Once you get to his place, he moves his hand from your thigh to put the car in park, and you immediately miss the contact. You don't have to miss it for long, though, when you get inside.

The door barely closes before his hands and his lips are on you again, making your skin light up with electricity. He starts to suck on your sweet spot again, which also earns another moan from you. You can barely get out the next few words, he's making you feel so good already.

"Kiri.." you try to tell him. This time it works - his head perks up, ready to listen to you.

"Kiri, where is your room?"

The simple question ignites a fire in his eyes, lust being the fuel. Quickly and easily, he picks you up so that he is holding you by your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck to help him, and he takes you to his room.

Gently, he places you on the bed, where you take a breath before you kiss him again, pulling him down on top of you. He takes this and moves his hand onto you again, one on the bed by your head, the other carefully placed against your stomach. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling it, showing him how much more you want.

Once again, he moves his hand up and under the bottom of your shirt, just underneath the cup of your bra, his thumb barely brushing it. The slight touch sparks electricity through your body, and it pools in your core.

You push back at his collar, and he lets you sit up enough to take off your shirt. His eyes are on you the whole time, and once you get it off, his jaw drops once more.

"Holy shit, you're beautiful," he says, still not taking his eyes off of you.

"Hold on a minute, though," he continues, once you reach out towards his collar again. "Are you sure you want this?"

The question brings back that warmth he shared from his smile weeks ago, and it was something even as simple as asking for consent. That warmth ensured that the fire burning inside of you right now would never go out.

"Kiri, I have wanted you since the first day we became partners for that project," you stated. "Yes, I am sure I want this."

"Okay, good, because I have, too," he says, and as you finally pull him down onto you, at the last second you flip him over so that he is on the bed and you're on top.

He grins wildly as you start unbuttoning his pants, and he helps you by taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side.

You pull down his boxers to reveal his erection, and his huge cock. Your core throbs at the sight, and you fight the urge to lick your lips, failing miserably.

When you place your lips around the tip of his length, Kiri throws his head back with a loud moan. Slowly, you start to bob your head up and down, sucking gently as you did. Your hand stroked the rest of him as well, and you could tell the sensation was doing lots of things to Kirishima. He was moaning so loud, you were sure the neighbors could hear, but you didn't want to stop. Kiri tried (and failed) not to thrust up into your throat, but you didn't mind it too much.

"Im.. so close-" he said, just a few seconds before you felt his white hot release in your mouth. When you were sure you had sucked him dry, you swallowed, earning yourself another groan and a wild grin from Kirishima.

"My turn," he said. He helps you to unclasp your bra, your cleavage falling out and bouncing in front of his face. Quickly he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him, your back against the bed. Contrastingly slow, he pulled your leggings down your legs, revealing your underwear and soaking pussy.

"Wow, all for me?" He started, pulling aside your underwear and rubbing a single finger through your folds. This immediately follows by a groan from you.

"Yes- Kiri, all for- for you," you just barely manage to stutter out once he puts that finger inside of you and starts to pump it in and out. The action makes you bite your lip, trying to stop the loud moans escaping you.

When Kiri sees this, he grabs your chin and pulls it to face him, still not stopping his fingers inside of you.

"Don't hide your voice, I want to hear every single sound you make tonight. And no one is going to hear but me," he says, and you let go, loud moans breaking free from your lips.

"Atta girl," he praises, which only goes down to your pussy, where he adds another finger inside of you now. He hits your G-spot every time, curling his fingers just so that he can get it. And he definitely does - you were close to your release.

"Kiri-" you warn, feeling the string of ecstacy being pulled tight, about to snap. "Don't stop-"

You gasp as your orgasm hits you like a waterfall, ecstacy and electricity rushing through you as that string snaps. You cum on his fingers, the stringy substance coating his fingers thickly. You ride your orgasm out on his fingers, and once you're done, he puts his fingers in his mouth and tastes your sweet release.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he praises you. You're still panting from your orgasm off his fingers, and it doesn't help when he pulls your underwear off your hips, tosses it to the floor, and pushes your legs up so that your knees are almost touching your shoulders.

He lines up his cock with your entrance, and your eyes widen as you realize you are about to take his monster of a cock inside you. He passes through your folds a few times before he slowly enters you, one inch at a time. He gets through just the tip before he stops so that you can adjust to the pleasant burn he gives you. Once you're adjusted well, he pushes inside of you just an inch further. He pushes down to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp again as his dick hits your cervix easily.

You adjust to the burn quickly, and thankfully because he begins to pump in and out of you, earning multiple pornographic moans from you. You can feel the buildup of pressure already, building up like a wall about to crash.

Kirishima drives into your pussy, moans releasing from both of you as you get closer to your high. His hands roam your body, one cupping and kneadind your breast and nipple, the other holding onto your waist.

He fucks into you harder and harder, faster and faster, until you can feel the cracks in the wall, a dam about to burst. Your moans mesh together as you both reach your high simultaneously. The dam breaks, erupting as his does too, resulting in a mix of his and your release together at the base of his cock, still hilt deep inside of you. Your legs shake from your release, and the last few pumps of your orgasms fall out of you both.

You lay on the bed in ecstacy as Kirishima pulls out of your ruined pussy, gets up from you and goes to the bathroom to cleanup. He comes back with a towel for you, and helps you to clean up the mess that is the two of you. Once he is done, he puts your previously discarded clothes into the hamper, and gives you a pair of shorts and a too-big shirt for you to wear, and he changes into a loose shirt and boxers as well. He helps you change, and when the two of you are done, he climbs into the bed next to you and places a kiss on your forehead.

"So, does this mean I'm your boyfriend now?" He whispers. You turn around and push his forehead lightly back to play with him.

"I think we need to play another game to determine that," you reply, a coy smile playing at your lips, despite recent events.

"Or..." Kiri trails off, trying to think of a comeback or an easier situation.

"Or... what?" You tease him, giggling as you watch his eyes light up with an idea.

"Or I could just fuck you again, except harder," he states, and this time you can't tell if he's serious or not.

"Harder?" You whisper, thinking about how he could possibly do that after what he did tonight.

"Yeah, although we might have to wait until the morning to do that, cause then you can walk," he says, his tone nothing but factual. He places one last kiss on your cheek this time, spooning you in the bed. The kiss makes the warmth inside of you burn brighter, never to go out again.

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